Daemon
by distrust
Summary: Seduced by his own dark magic, the dark sorcerer would do anything to have her... possessive ExT fic
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS

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_his pretty little corpse bride _

It was unusually chilly in Tomodea that night, and a young man with a pair of dark eyes was lounging in his manor, his solitary place, and was sitting on his seat, scheming.

He was planning his first move, his eyes peering through his wide-rimmed glasses, thinking of what he was going to do with the girl. The girl, who he could care of any less, if it were not for the girl's talented voice, self-destructive agony and her overall destiny, was ignorant of her soon-to-be tragic involvement in magic, wherein she was born without it. She was born in the wrong place at the wrong time, really; but she was here for his opportune moment. She was his hope, and he had his dirty secrets ready for her to take. She would be his sacrifice—he would make sure that she would sacrifice _herself_—and he honestly did not give a damn what the aftereffects would do to her fragile mind. What mattered was that she would save him, his life; and that was all he cared about, his sanity, and to him, that was enough.

His expression was contrite and ironic as he withdrew a small, ancient key from his dark robes and with a flick of his wrist and a quick incantation, the key emerged into a staff. From afar, one could make out the gold sun and other patterns that highlighted the staff, but no one had seen it, excluding him and his followers, his victims.

Without saying anything, blue flames roared in front of his form, flitting steadily, and its heat licking his skin; the flames were near him, but they were not sufficiently close to burn him. "Excellent," he drawled. His focus was on the infernos that seemed to combat with each other as they flared in fervor, as if they were begging for his affection. "Show me the girl," he told them without preamble. All his concentration was on the fire that interlinked together, making a circle-shaped thing, and progressively transformed into a mirror, mimicking his hooded face. At once, the heat seeped out, but the blue flames were dancing, rubbing one another, and then they dimmed, clearing again with the snap of his fingers. But this time, a vivid moving image of a girl slipped into the flames.

He collapsed in his seat in satisfaction at the sight of her, and he watched the unaware girl, the hapless victim, sprinting in a slapdash fashion under the glittering constellations of the night.

* * *

She did not find comfort in running away with no reservations on a night like this; she was hardly fit for such exercise. This particular night, however, was when she broke all the rules, hacked down her decorum and her demeanor into fine, two pieces that would make her Mother shriek in revulsion and would make Sakura-chan hug her and utter, 'Hoe' in abundance, if both knew of what she had done. 

It was not terribly bad as she was exaggerating it to be, really: She only dissuaded her female bodyguards to have a night off and revel in it, her boyfriend assuring them that he would be with her always, because it was she and her boyfriend's last night together, as he was going to England tomorrow. She only pocketed a candied violet flower in the candy shop, Solitude, which was uncharacteristic of her, but she did it purely on her boyfriend's dare; she reasoned to herself that she did it because he did not think she could do it. She was an Amamiya at heart, and as such, people should not underestimate her and take her flippantly. And she was, if a bit distressingly, proud of herself as she did execute stealing the candied flower well. The vendor in the store did not detect her nicking something in his store, really, as the police did not come after her.

Yet, she corrected herself, as she was positive that the vendor saw her behaving suspiciously, when she exited the shop, and above all, her fingers were clutching her bag as if there was something that did not belong in there…

She set off at a slow confident pace then, dreading the sound of the infuriated honks of the police cars (and the police officers telling her to have her hands up), that were probably approaching her at any minute now. What would her Mother think of her when the authorities barge in her Mother's office, reporting that her daughter had shoplifted in a store? Her Mother would faint, and punish her severely or worse, forbid her to see Kyo, her boyfriend, ever again. With a slight shiver, she took big gulps of air, realizing that she was panting; she reminded herself that she has a date to attend to, so she would fret of her current predicament later... Speaking of which, where was her date?

She strained her neck to look back at the place where she committed Her Crime. It was then she spotted Kyo, who had just walked out of the store she did not wish to see or go into again. The heels of her shoes tapped the asphalt as she turned around to face him fully, though there was a good measure between them, as he was on the other side of the street.

Apparently seeing her as well, Kyo waved at her with his left hand. "Tomoyo-chan," he yelled brightly, "Wait up!"

She waited for him patiently as he looked to his right, and then to his left, making sure that there were no cars driving by, and crossed the street hastily.

He kissed her on the lips upon his arrival, and presented her a basket filled with candied violets, each individually wrapped in mellow green and blue cellophanes.

"Thank you, Kyo-kun," said Tomoyo courteously, taking the basket graciously from him. They resumed strolling, a myriad of people's faces pushing past them as they this so. "So," she said, lithely evading bumping into bystanders, "what took you so long?"

Kyo tossed her a boyish look. "Ah, you see," he said conversationally, "after I challenged you to take whatever you like at any store without paying for it, I spied on you the whole time instead of hanging out in the park like I told you that I would. Thus, when you left _Solitude_, and I daresay you left quite guardedly and guiltily—" and, seeing her twitch, he added hurriedly, "—but you repressed it well—I gave the vendor a visit and promptly paid my soul for your dreadful sins and that ate my time…which was why I was late for our date."

Tomoyo, her face straight, threw him a look of her own. "I swear, Kyo-kun," she said, playful, "if you were not my boyfriend, I would have possibly sewed your tongue onto the cuffs of the shirt that I'm making Li-kun for his birthday present; he would be surely overjoyed at the notion of you not being able to talk any longer."

"But ah," said Kyo, before giving her one of his bewitching winks, "If I weren't your boyfriend, you would be alone by now. …Besides, I did tell your bodyguards that no harm would be upon you as long as_ I_ am with _you, _and therefore, I _have_ to be with you and I _have_ to be your boyfriend." Then, he drew back as though as he was in pain. "And Tomoyo-chan, please, please, _please_ refrain from using Li in the Ten Ways One Could Torture Her Boyfriend in your list, no."

"Of course, Kyo-kun," she said it in a sweet tone that he had an impression she was not going to do what he implored her not to do.

"Is this what I get from being your white and shining knight armor?" He asked, sporting on a wounded look.

"Why, yes, whatever you say, Kyo-kun," there was her sweet tone again which compelled him to stop dead, and Tomoyo, who was an inch behind him had said, 'what' when she walked into him.

She merely needed to look up at him, and he looked down at her, before the two of them laughed joyously, but not exactly knowing why. Then they kissed right there, in front of a restaurant's entrance, eliciting irritated murmurs from the reluctant audience that gathered before them. Tomoyo did not care, nor did Kyo, as they were preoccupied of each other. She gasped, her toes curling in the pleasant sensation, when Kyo's teeth nibbled her upper lips. His hands were everywhere, it seemed, and wherever he caressed her, sparks flew and it sizzled; it ignited this otherworldly dimension, where feeling was the only thing that was significant, and thinking was a word that was not important. She was massaging his scalp with her fingers when reality knocked in a distinctive voice: "HOEEE! Tomoyo-chan! Kyo-kun!"

Finally perceiving that they were in public, Tomoyo mouthed an 'I'm sorry' to Kyo, her lips still upon his, before breaking off the kiss.

Her face faintly red, she made a wide sweeping search for that familiar voice, but she did not have to look for too long as she immediately saw Sakura, who had her arm latched onto Syaoran. The couple was standing a meter off Tomoyo and Kyo, and Tomoyo, who braced herself for whatever the night would give her, walked towards her best friend and gave her an embrace.

"Hello, Sakura-chan," greeted Kyo, glancing at the two of them curiously, "Li."

Syaoran mumbled something under his breath, which Tomoyo signaled Kyo to ignore, not wanting to attract any more attention. Sakura, who had heard Syaoran's mutterings, instantly chastised him.

"Ah, ah, Syaoran-kun," said Sakura, a frown marring her pretty face, "Be nice to Kyo-kun; he's Tomoyo-chan's boyfriend." Looking at Kyo, Sakura smiled at him, apologetic, "Hi, Kyo-kun!"

In the background, Syaoran protested, sputtering that he did not do or say anything bad.

Kyo accepted Sakura's silent apology on behalf of Syaoran with a grin. Then quietness descended on the four of them, the atmosphere thick like a weed that refused to die. Sakura had somewhat intervened already, attempted to break the ice, but it was ineffective, futile. Sakura thought fleetingly that it was a hopeless cause, to get their respective boyfriends to talk to one another; but she for one would never give up on them! With that thought in mind, Sakura gestured to Tomoyo swiftly, and then to the two boys, who were having a mental contest with one another.

Tomoyo, understanding what Sakura indicated implicitly, coughed politely. Kyo and Syaoran looked at her, surprised.

"So," Tomoyo began cheerily to Sakura, "I thought your brother did not allow you to go out with Li-kun tonight?"

Sakura gave Syaoran one last warning look in previous and beamed at Tomoyo's direction. "He did, but daddy said that I could go since it is summer vacation; Syaoran-kun also told daddy that he would be by my side and he would protect me at all costs."

At Sakura's words, Kyo flinched—which Tomoyo saw—thinking how he had said something akin to Li's assertion.

Tomoyo promptly giggled; she knew Kyo well enough to know what he was thinking. Her mouth near Sakura's ear, she said, "Li-kun and Kyo-kun are more alike than they bargained for…" and shortly explained why thereafter. In response, Sakura stole a look at Syaoran and Kyo, who were glowering at each other as though there was no tomorrow, and bopped her head in agreement. She and Tomoyo tittered in laughter.

Syaoran, oblivious to the source of Tomoyo and Sakura's giggle fits, muttered, "Girls," his cheeks flushed.

Kyo said nothing; he simply tilted his head to the side.

Once Sakura managed to calm down, she looked at Kyo, smiling at him. "Anou…Kyo-kun," said Sakura, "what are you and Tomoyo-chan's plans for tonight?"

"Other than making out in public, that is," Syaoran put in, scowling.

"Syaoran-kun!"

Ignoring Syaoran's biting remark as though he never uttered it at all, Kyo replied warmly to Sakura, "Tomoyo-chan and I are going to try the food at the new restaurant, Belles—" he pointed at the restaurant behind them in reference, "—and we would certainly love it if you and Li join us; it will be more fun with company."

Sakura brightened at Kyo's suggestion as it was an amazing prospect that Kyo and Syaoran would _have_ to get along this time round. But she hesitated, as she remembered that Kyo was going to England the next morning. "Are you sure?" asked Sakura, "wouldn't you and Tomoyo-chan mind, though? I mean, Syaoran-kun and I would not like to cut in to your get-together…"

Kyo looked at Tomoyo, beseeching for her opinion. "We won't mind, would we love?" he said.

Tomoyo saw the possibility of success of finally getting Kyo and Syaoran be in friendly terms, like Sakura did, and so she said no. She glanced at a mortified Syaoran, and her eyes wicked, she said to Sakura, "Besides which, this would be a marvelous opportunity for the two boys to get to know each other…"

The healthy color on Syaoran's face went white, telling Tomoyo and Sakura (and Kyo, but he didn't care) that it was a horrible, horrible idea. Thankfully, for Syaoran, he found his voice. "Argh!" he groaned, "Daidouji-san—"

Sakura glared lightheartedly at Syaoran. "Be nice, Syaoran-kun," she forewarned him.

* * *

The stars in the horizon glimmered bits and pieces of light on Tomodea Park. The park itself was clean; however, there were a several gum wrappers, random pages torn off in old and new newspapers, and a couple of trash here and there, that one could find on occasion. Fountains and their treasures of pennies and cents, two gardens of plants and herbs, exquisite cherry blossoms (but summer had reduced its luster as they nestled between the two gardens, amok) and worn-out benches mainly comprised the Tomodea Park. Couples were ubiquitous, but they had their respective private spots, and so there were no problems. 

One couple, however, did stand out. If one looked at them for a minute, one would think that they were looking at the sky: the girl was lying on her back, the moist grass staining her pristine white sundress; and the boy was beside her. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, and they were gazing up the heavens, possibly telling one another when summer solstice had began, or whatnot. But, if one did examine the seemingly harmonious couple, one would see that they were having a lovers' spat…

"Well," Kyo said tentatively, his shoulder nudging hers, "that was nice." He was referring to their double date with Sakura and Syaoran; the two of them were alone now, as Sakura and Syaoran bid them goodbye after the incident that caused Tomoyo to be standoffish towards him.

"Yes, that was nice," said Tomoyo, her tone clipped to the dot, "you and Li-kun were being _nice_ to one another." She observed the stars again.

Kyo winced at her recollection. The restaurant had kicked them out—hence, they were at the park—because he and Li had brawled inside the restaurant. Consequently, Sakura dragged Syaoran to her home, vowing to Syaoran pain and more pain once they step in at the Kinomoto's house. Tomoyo, who was constantly Syaoran's hero when Sakura was angry with him, had not said anything to help Syaoran. Kyo would have made a face at his opponent, but he was in trouble himself, with Tomoyo.

"But, love," argued Kyo, albeit that he knew and Tomoyo knew that his efforts were in vain, "he commenced on insulting me! _Loads_. In public!"

Tomoyo suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. It was unanticipated that the dinner was a disaster waiting to happen. Neither she nor Sakura foresaw that Syaoran and Kyo would not be in their best behavior; they honestly should have, but they did not, and that alone was a big mistake. Syaoran redundantly blew harsh statements to Kyo whenever he deemed that Kyo needed 'some loving attention'. Kyo was unfazed, or _seemed_ to be. Tomoyo would have rewarded Kyo with kisses, but he had lost it at Syaoran's comment of Tomoyo being 'too good for him'.

She should not be surprised, Tomoyo thought miserably. She could not blame Kyo-kun for blowing up and spouting expletives at Li-kun; Li-kun really was out of the line when he said those things to Kyo-kun. But Kyo-kun was prominent of his long-lasting patience. And Li-kun was being an overprotective brother that she never had. Nevertheless, she must discuss this further with Sakura-chan and about what to do with the two of them…

"…and I am sorry, Tomoyo-chan, but I cannot bear Sakura-chan's boyfriend even if I try," Kyo was saying. He crooked a boyish grin. "I really am sorry, love."

Tomoyo, immersed in her thoughts, looked at him, blanched. "I'm sorry?" she asked blankly.

"I really am sorry," repeated Kyo.

Tomoyo smiled at him, figuring out that he was apologizing for his actions that night. "I know," she said, rueful, "I still wish that you and Li-kun would get along, though—" to which Kyo grimaced "—or _tolerate_ one another for my and Sakura-chan's sake. The antagonism between you and Li-kun saddens me, you know."

Kyo's features contorted, panicked that she was sad by all this. "But, Tomoyo-chan," he said helplessly, "he began this hostility between us, not I!"

Tomoyo kissed him on the cheek, her iron-curled black hair quirking at her movement. "Forgive Li-kun," said Tomoyo gently, "he cares for my welfare as though I am his sister, that's all."

Kyo took notice of the fondness that tinged her voice. Scoffing, he told her, "Hardly, love," he disagreed, "he hates me."

"Please, just try to get along with Li-kun," said Tomoyo, eyes entreating.

"No," said Kyo firmly, persistent as she.

For moments, they looked at each other, neither willing to give in. Kyo, on the other hand, was certain that Tomoyo would remain undeterred even if, say, the hell froze over because pigs sprouted wings. After all, Tomoyo was more Amamiya than Daidouji; even though Tomoyo appeared to look fragile, if one were to touch her, she would not disperse into dust; she was mentally strong. He, however…how could he _ever _deny his ladylove? He may be unyielding, but he honestly did not wish to quarrel with her, especially when he would not see her for the rest of the summer.

Pretending to sigh, Kyo was the one who budged willingly first. "Fine, Tomoyo-chan," said Kyo grudgingly, with a heavy feeling that he would regret this later on, "_For_ you, I'll try to be friendly with Li even if he's ludicrously horrible to me…."

She enlivened considerably.

"….in exchanged of your kiss." He finished.

Tomoyo's lips threatened to quirk right then. She was only sixteen, they both were, but she felt like she had known him forever. Kyo was her first serious boyfriend; he was her first serious relationship; and he was her second serious love. 'And your last,' said Sakura over a tub of ice cream the other night, 'as you two would be together forever until your last breath…like Syaoran-kun and I are together until our last breath!' At first, when Sakura told her of that, Tomoyo thought she was being idealistic. Sakura was _always_ optimistic, but she was true on the latter, about her and Syaoran being together ad infinitum. But Tomoyo desperately hoped that Sakura was right about her and Kyo, too.

She feigned to ponder on Kyo's proposal, her smile already conspicuous, which told Kyo of her answer right away, but he waited for her to say it. "Okay, Kyo-kun," she said to him at last, "you have a deal." And his lips were on hers, and she was in bliss.

* * *

He watched her through the blue flames that flickered every now and then. She was not aware that he was watching her, monitoring her all the time. He did not come to Tomodea years ago simply to hone her best friend's capabilities to become what he became; he came to see her, to see how she was doing up close. He watched her from afar, thought of her day and night, _especially _at night, and all the while, Kaho's own dirty secrets preserved in his mind, like a pretty corpse bride. 

And it made him clench his teeth; it made his tongue bleed, when he watched that impudent boy kissed her, and watched her kissed that insolent boy back. She was a foolish, stupid girl. Did she not understand that she was his and his alone? It angered him, how he envisioned her lying on his satin bed, he on top of her, his hands strangling her swan-like neck. He was going to take her life away from her, away from that boy, away from her damned bliss.

"Careful, Eriol-sama," spoke a tiny being from behind him, quietly, "you need her." The creature had its big, half-circled eyes on him, its pupils very long and very narrow. If anything else, it looked like the spawn of the night, the unlucky black cat, with delicate dark blue wings.

"He knows, Suppi-chan," spoke another; it loomed over Eriol, its magenta eyes trained on him. This creature was taller and bigger than the than last: It had reddish purplish hair that cascaded down its back; some strands of its hair caught in its two majestic, ethereal black wings with magenta spots, which oddly enough, looked like butterfly wings. "He's not stupid," it concluded, its tone raw.

"He's certainly not stupid," the one whose name was Suppi-chan had said. Its tiny blue wings flapped softly as it settled on Eriol's lap. "You're the idiot one, Nakuru_-chan_; of course he could do whatever he pleases to Daidouji after he gets what he wants from her," it said ruthlessly, "I was reminding him what he has to do first, although I don't suppose _you_ understand."

The one named Nakuru-chan glared at Suppi-chan. "You little—"

"That's enough, both of you," said Eriol crisply, finally acknowledging the two creatures' presence. Both had instantaneously obeyed, seeing that their master was not in a good mood. "We have matters of great magnitude to deal with at hand," Eriol had told the duo when they quieted down; he flicked his staff for the second time that night and there was an inaudible hiss, before the blue flames disappeared into thin mist. Then, looking at the organism on his lap, he prompted, "Spinel Sun?"

Spinel Sun—or Suppi-chan as the other had dubbed it—nodded. "It was a success and the subject is out of peril, Eriol-sama," reported the blue creature at once, and said nothing else.

Satisfied at its answer, Eriol's watchful eyes were on the other being now, expectant. "What of you, Ruby Moon?" asked Eriol.

"As expected, Master," informed Ruby Moon, "your alliances are still forged and your supremacy still established, despite that they assumed that you are…ah, _gone_, hundreds of years ago. Rumors has it that they are simply at peace as a tribute to you, though that is questionable."

"Good," his mouth curled into a sardonic smile at the news; he waited for Ruby Moon to speak again, his lips still skewed.

"They are questioning why the girl is vital to the operation, as she is a mortal, Eriol-sama," Ruby moon continued.

Eriol made a noncommittal noise, his brow creased in thought. In his mind, he pictured and thought of Tomoyo: He hid in her head, her thoughts trickling in his, meshed. She was apparently engrossed kissing the boy still. His shuteyes tore holes in the unsuspecting couple as the boy clutched her forearms. How dare _him_, touching her like that. Tomoyo was his; she was his, and nobody could waltz in and dance with her, not even _him_.

Eriol fixed his eyes on Ruby Moon, his smirk visible. "They need not to fret over it," he answered, and as an afterthought, he said, stroking Spinel Sun's fur, "But do keep them bound indefinitely; they are not to be trusted."

Ruby Moon and Spinel Sun took it as his dismissal to them. Spinel Sun ascended from his lap, wings aflutter; Ruby Moon bowed, unearthly as ever. "Yes, Eriol-sama," they whispered, their eyes equally bright like Eriol's. Then the two creatures choreographed the film of fog that pressed on the windows into intricate steps, before evaporating completely.

* * *

There was something funny with the way she felt tonight. Even though Kyo-kun was with her and even though he was being a romantic significant other, (they made up and they were kissing under the stars at Tomodea Park. What could she possibly ask for more?), it felt like something was missing—perhaps, she thought, the appropriate thing to say was, she felt like she was being _invaded_ mentally and physically. Not by Kyo-kun, heavens no, she liked kissing him; with that said, she liked doing everything with him. Yet she could tell that they were not alone, not precisely, and that they were being watched. She could tell because, for one, when her fingers were working its way to tangle with Kyo's honey blond hair, the hair on the either side of her arms stood up. _Goose bumps_. It was strange. She hardly ever gets them except when she was cold and though it was cool that night, she wasn't; Kyo's cotton jacket shielded her from the weather. 

Feeling uneasy, Tomoyo jolted, ending the kiss abruptly. She looked around the Tomodea Park, but as far as her vigilant eyes could see, only the breeze and dog-walkers and cuddling couples were present. There was nothing bizarre lurking in the park.

"Kyo-kun," Tomoyo murmured—she gazed at him at last, though her uneasiness did not go away—confused and dazed, "did you hear that?"

Kyo who was punch-drunk, said, "Hmm?" his mouth was grazing her forehead.

Tomoyo looked at him, disturbed. Perhaps she was being silly. "Did you not feel it, like something or somebody wa…" She tailed away at his concerned look; she suddenly felt guilty for allowing herself to worry over nothing and involving Kyo into this. She dismissed her question with a smile. "You know what, never mind," said Tomoyo instead.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked nonetheless, bothered by Tomoyo's porcelain skin ten times paler than usual.

Tomoyo could have lied easily; she was a good liar and a good actor at that. She really did not like lying to Kyo-kun, but she did not want to cause him stress at her expense. Thus, she laughed shakily. "Yes, Kyo-kun, I'm all right. I _am_ sad that you're leaving tomorrow…particularly when our anniversary is in two weeks," she said. The mirth in her almost lilac eyes disappeared, but they sparkled in understanding. "That's alright, though. I do get why you have to go to England—you being the heir of your family's business there, and all. Moreover,_ I_ can live without you for two months; you can't."

Kyo tucked a wandering strand of hair behind her ear, muffling his laugh. For now, he was set to forget of not seeing her for two agonizing months; it pained him to think of it, anyhow.

"Why, Tomoyo-chan," he said, his hands covering hers, "I can _eat_ without you feeding me for weeks, I think. And I promise I'll visit you. Soon. Real soon."

She squeezed his in return, and she was going to say something when her pager beeped, alerting her that her time was up; she had to go home. "You must remember to keep your promise to me, then," said Tomoyo and grinning remorsefully, she said, "Your appointment with your jet plane is tomorrow, isn't?"

Catching her meaning, but mostly because of her beeping pager, Kyo shared her grin, and said, "Yes. And you have an appointment to be there so you could give me a kiss," before he swept her off her feet.

**Note: hi everybody, I revised this chapter and I am on my way to revise chapter 2 (yay for me! I think). Also, I took chapter 2 down, but I will post it up again once I have done minor alterations to (in?) it. English is my second language, so if you any comments/suggestions/etcetera, I will appreciate it! I hope this (chapter 1) improved a bit. If not, please tell me so I could fix it. Thanks so much for your review and/or constructive criticisms; though it might not show, it had helped me a lot! And, now, about the story: 'Daemon' is not canon entirely, and the characters are going to be terribly out of character, but I'll try to keep it to a minimum. And about Eriol's sun staff: I tried to describe it but...er, yeah. Anyhow, I hope you guys have a nice summer (summer rocks!).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS.

* * *

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_memento mori_

Going downstairs in the middle of the night, simply to have a snack in the kitchen should not be a problem to her.

It was a given that her mansion was absurdly, incredibly big—almost like a castle that sat on the top of a snow mountain, overlooking the humbler and modest houses below it. She had memorized the twists, the turns and the secret passages. She crept and snuck out of the mansion, each night, after her discovery of Sakura-chan's double life, productively. Her female bodyguards, the sleeping house cleaners, and the overall security guards did not know of her whereabouts. The security cams plastered everywhere did not stop her down. Nobody and nothing could. She was a wall; a wall could avoid things; it was there, _they_ existed, but no one really noticed.

And, yet…an irrelevant—and irrational—fear dug deeper and soaked into her two-hundred and six bones. Her hands were clammy and cold and they were shaking as she deftly shut her bedroom door.

'Be quick, be clever, don't trip, don't waver…' she chanted absently, her blood humming in her ears. She licked her lips, eyes adjusting to the darkness, eyes prepared and squinting. She began to move. Be haste and be careful were the things she learned over the couple of years she had done this. _Sneaking out…_ there was something tangy and sinister about it. Yet she loved it. She did it almost every night despite that Sakura-chan and her Sakura Cards were safe now; in addition to that, there were no troubles brewing in Tomodea. Their lives were peaceful, ordinary even. There was frankly no point of her sneaking out, save for her love of the excitement.

But there were indeed seconds that fleeting thoughts would pass her, if she let had let them: Somebody recording her every move, her every dance…somebody kidnapping her, realizing that she's Sonomi Daidouji's daughter in one glance…would somebody seek her? If they had, she wondered if the police would find her dead and naked the next day, if her eyes were glassy, and the blood drained from her body. She wondered, secretly, if rain, scavengers, bacteria would then consume the evidence, and nobody could find her. No one could help her. At those imageries that forcefully projected itself in her mind, she slapped herself mentally, and opted for going to the kitchen only as she was safe within the confines of the mansion, postponing her nightly escapades, just for this one night.

Now, she thought, wistful, if she could only obtain spectacular, inhuman eyesight, she would not have to rely on nearly tripping up on the life-sized statue—the gift that her Father had bought her last Christmas—that seemed to happen to her _always_, to know that she had arrived at the stairs.

* * *

Touch. He could see their deaths with one single touch. Had he worn gloves, had he hid, he would not have to peer into their intimate, personal lives. Not many people knew. The society, the young and the old, even the dead didn't know. He could see them and their lies, their pretenses, their ironies. They gave him their marks, each swearing that he would miss them; he would lie and concur, but their purpose not lost. Through them, he could be what and who they were, whether they were conscious to it or not. To him, they were interesting specimens, each unique and different from the last. 

It was indisputable; it was a verity that they had no idea, really. No clue at what he could do to them, what he could mold them into, and that brought lazy, wicked sniggers to his creatures, doused with their own putrid smell. _You control them exceptionally well, Eriol-sama, better than Clow Reed could ever do. _Even the powerful Sakura-san and her dreams sprinkled with the essence of tomorrows—the dreams that she learned to jot down during the spotless sunrises so she could refer to it later—did not know…oh, there were no exceptions. All of them were gullible, naïve.

Especially sixteen-year old schoolgirls. They were his favorite. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance," he would tell them, Englishman-like, and he would raise their dainty, rosy hands to his lips. Then the visions would come, almost as if he asked for it. _This one would die twenty years from now. AIDS. No cure. Poor little thing. _

And when their purpose was nothing but a trace of energy dribbling from his chin, he would leave a kiss on their sixteen-year old rosy hands, "Goodbye," and an infectious grin, "We shall see each another again sometime, I'm sure."

He was like a god, felt like he was one. A devil of a god, his mother had spited him. Yes. And he would think of the anonymous and their ends, particularly these two living things, now rotting, now buried. _Angela Medina: ran away from home, away from parental abuse; but she was not safe; she would die in the hands of her boyfriend_. It was tragic, really, that Angela. He met her in the dark, saw her face like an open field. He almost devoured her, her momentary release, her freedom. They assumed too much, but they knew not a lot. A fantastic example was that ill-fated boy. _Saki Sarorou_. Saki was whiner, a follower. _Saki was a nurse living in Tokyo, but he was obstinate, not acknowledging his imminent death: cancer._ It was dreadful, their deaths. And the lot of them was in his reverie, haunting him.

He really was fortunate; he the reincarnation of Reed; and reflecting of Saki the Ill-fated Boy, and Tragic Angela… He would not tell them over their corpses that he enjoyed it, their sad and happy lives, all of it; he _hated _that he enjoyed it. But he did not admit it, that he fancied basking in the glories of the richly devoted. He loved them, honestly. That was why he hated them all, hated that he relinquished their breathy whispers, their flirty messages, their twisted philosophies—_and those sixteen-year-old schoolgirls_—until he plunged in for the kill.

* * *

Tomoyo was on her toes, her steps nippy as she passed by the corridors. She was considering what she was going to do while Kyo was in England. Her first thought was to consort with her best friend, Sakura-chan. But unfortunately, the Kinomoto family (and their family friend, Tsukishiro-san) and Li-kun were going away on vacation in Hong Kong; they were going to leave fourteen days away from now. They had invited her to come with them, naturally, but she had declined. Her Father was going to drop by in Japan, she elaborated to Sakura over one of their sleepovers. Sakura, who was jerking Kero-chan's ear for wolfing down the sweets she had made for Li-kun, had beamed at her and said, "That's great, Tomoyo-chan! It's too bad that—_oh, no! Come back here, Kero-chan_!" Sakura yelled at Kero, who slid out of her clutch and flew past her; she beamed at Tomoyo again. "The invitation is still open if you changed your mind, though!" said Sakura hurriedly, before running after Kero. 

Sakura was glad for her, that she knew. Her Mother, however, was not pleased of her decision: "Do not get your hopes up, darling," she warned her, "it is plausible that he would not come as he is a busy man."

Tomoyo knew that her Mother was looking out for her. Of her two parents, her Father was the busiest. Ever since she was a child, her Father was overseas, managing the Daidouji's businesses in other parts of Asia and Europe (and now, America); he was seldom to be at home, and he never gave her a call. The only correspondence they had was through the birthday and Christmases cards and the lavish gifts he sent her. Tomoyo did not see any pictures of him framed in the mansion, either, but she did not question her Mother if they were divorced or separated.

It was plain that her Mother cared for her regardless that, sometimes, her Mother did not make it to one of her birthday parties that she herself had arranged, so her secretary would come instead as the surrogate. And her Father…well, she was not confident if he did love her and her Mother.

Perhaps her Mother knew of her speculations, which was why she gave her all she ever wanted, but not necessarily, what she needed. The glamour did teach her many, many things, two of which—dancing and singing (her sewing skill was self-taught and her filming skill was, well, for her entertainment)—her Mother forced her to like.

* * *

"_Bösendorfer? That piano is a _Bösendorfer_? Dear Kami-sama! It's beautiful."_

"_Thank you, Mother…Do you suppose Father shall be pleased?"_

"_Why would he not? I think he'll be more than pleased! He loves playing the piano, you know, and this makes me happy and so very proud of you, Eriol, that I could die this moment, just to be happy."_

"_I implore you not to speak of death like that, Mother, it is not a game."_

"_I know, I know, I was simply jesting… Ah, well…Come now; let us get some tea and cookies for you to get that handsome face of yours to cheer up, shall we."

* * *

_

"Finally," she murmured, seeing the watery shadow of the kitchen door. She looked up and down, her hearing sharpened, appreciating the sheer loneliness, the absolute silence of the eternal darkness that emanated from the ceilings, and the empty hollows.

Only to be disturbed by her stomach grumbling softly.

Smiling grimly, she recalled why she wanted to go to the kitchen in the first place. 'Kitchen, fridge, the leftover sushi…got it.' The door creaked with a quiet squeak. One of her eyes peeked inside; there was nobody there.

She blinked. How odd. The recently hired house cleaner, Naoko Yasanawa, habitually joins her to have a snack at this hour. For a second, she wondered if Naoko had told her Mother of her activities. But Naoko was her ally and her friend; she would never tell anybody. She trusted her. Shrugging off that spiteful thought, Tomoyo strode directly to the refrigerator, and gained access to its contents swiftly.

She scanned for the leftover California sushi rolls from last night's dinner, spotted the container filled with sushi within seconds, and was about to retrieve it when her mobile vibrated inside the small purse she carried around the mansion.

She knew that only four people have her private number: Her mother was out of the picture, as she was in the Toy Company, working overnight. Sakura-chan was probably asleep, as it was already midnight, but Tomoyo would not count her out. Kyo-kun's flight was tomorrow, so he was likely resting by now; but he did give her his word that he would call her...

Hand over her mobile, she answered it, "Daidouji Tomoyo is speaking," genial and brief.

"Tomoyo-chan!" cried a charming voice on the other line.

Tomoyo recognized the voice instantly. "Meiling-chan!" she exclaimed, her astonishment unmistakable, but she recovered shortly, as Meiling did mention that she was going to give her a ring the other day. Something about the red-eyed girl going around the world in eighty days, Tomoyo supposed, she serving as her breathing diary.

Meiling laughed. "Am I interrupting your date with your midnight snack?" She inquired Tomoyo teasingly, "Because, well, I have to say, Tomoyo-chan, it is quite rude of you to hang up on me just because you and your lover, the sushi delight, are having a rendezvous, when I'm calling you from the other side of the world."

"My date can wait," replied Tomoyo gamely, barely managing to conceal her snicker. Her beige nightgown whirled jubilantly in the moonlight as she gracefully perched on a soft-plush chair.

"Uh-huh."

What had Meiling had said before, when she greeted her, had sunken in. "You're 'calling from the other side of the world'?" Tomoyo reiterated, mentally doing her geography. "Hong Kong isn't extremely far from Japan, Meiling-chan, and though I'm curious and I'm certain that you are tantalizing me, I won't ask where you are."

Meiling protruded her lower lip in displeasure. "Mou, you're no fun!" There was a pause on Meiling's line. "Anyway, if you must know, I'm abroad." She gave a delighted scream. "I'm staying in a hotel in Florida. _Florida_! In fact—" She gave another ecstatic scream at which Tomoyo smiled slightly, "I'm going to ride all the roller coasters, the creepy tunnels, and the kiddy scream-o rides in Disneyworld in a few hours!" Meiling proceeded to lie on the bed, absentmindedly noting to check out the Florida sky later. "But," she continued eagerly, "that's not the only reason why I phoned you, Tomoyo-chan."

Tomoyo raised an eyebrow, interest piqued.

Meiling did not wait for Tomoyo to respond. "I had an epiphany!" she burst out, tears of joy erupting from her wet red eyes. "You know what that means, Tomoyo-chan?" she asked rhetorically, not minding the tears that were streaming down her face, "I have cried over Syaoran enough, and then, today, WHAM! I do not have to cry over him anymore! I don't need to." She clarified.

Tomoyo's almost lilac eyes, speckled with a bluish tint, widened at Meiling's declaration. She had known Meiling for years, known about her love for Li-kun, and her giving up Li-kun. It was how she and Meiling became friends. Both had lost their hearts from unrequited love; both did not know how long, or when, they would move along. Yet they hoped, almost knew that there was a light at the end of the road, even if it meant that they would be alone.

"I'm happy for you, Meiling," she finally said, meaning every word of it. "I really and absolutely am."

"I'm happy for me, too," confessed Meiling, choked, as her realization hit her full force. Sniffling, she said, "Anyway, let's change the subject; this weepy and schmaltzy stuff is making me cry." Wiping her tears away, she accused Tomoyo, "You have not told me anything about your love life yet. Spill it out, Tomo-chan!" she commanded.

Tomoyo just chortled to which Meiling snorted, but as fast her humor came, it was lost over the seriousness swimming just below it. "As you know, Kyo-kun and I will be having our seven month anniversary in two weeks, though he won't be here to celebrate it with me..." She paused, expecting Meiling's reaction since she did not like Kyo-kun, claiming 'you're too good for him Tomo-chan'. She was rather bewildered, as it was the most peculiar that Li-kun and Meiling-chan agreed on the same thing.

"Oh," said Meiling, gently probing, which surprised Tomoyo a bit, "does that mean that you don't need to cry over her?"

Tomoyo ruminated on what Meiling had asked her, silent. This was she afraid of—facing the questions she avoided by not thinking of it. Apparently, though, she had to confront it sometime; and apparently, the time was now. Did she need to cry over Sakura-chan still? Was she—in Sakura-chan's words—happy? She was in love with her for as long as she could recall, for far for anyone's comfort, possibly Kyo's, in particular. However, she did not confide in to Kyo of it when she first agreed to date with him; she could be selfish for once, couldn't she. But she felt responsible for Kyo…he thought she was in it for him, for love. She wasn't; but her plan had backfired.

She did not see him coming: This boy with earthly brown eyes trained on her as if she was the only person in the world; this boy with his whispers—_don't be afraid_—in summertime, his warmth—_I'll take care of you_—in wintertime... She could not pass him up: he was too sweet, too sweet when he said _Love_. So she took his hand, and that moment, when she took her chance, was still fresh in her living memory. It was as if they were floating on water and the wind crushing their lungs, her arm linking to his and she was flying, flying without wings—And then, gasping, comprehension had fell upon her that maybe—just maybe—she knew the answer.

Tomoyo smiled. "Yes, Meiling-chan," she said sincerely into the phone. "I am done crying over her…but I still love her, you know," she blew a breath, and she was still smiling, "…I just love Kyo-kun the best."

* * *

"_Love?"_

"_Yes, Eriol, love—you must pour love into your piano by artistic means. Otherwise, you play tunes that are as deadly as carbon monoxide when the pianist does not have any emotions. Love is to passion. Passion is to love. "_

_"With all due respect, Mizuki-sensei, passion can be anger as well."_

"_Surely, you adore creating music with your hands, no…and that is passion, Eriol, but there is no love, and that's ugly...or perhaps, this particular hobby is of Reed's—?"_

"_My Father's, but I like it, and I don't ever need love."_

"_So, you say you cannot love?"_

"_No, that's not—"_

"_Hush. Listen_, _perhaps you do not understand what love could do to you right now, but I assure you, Eriol, you'll understand. You'll change your mind. And you'll thank me for it."

* * *

_

He was watching her again.

It was another sleepless night, he knew, as his blue eyes were dark, staring through the grandfather's clock, staring right at her, following her, looking through her….She was beautiful, like fine silk, and she was by herself in the mansion at last. But not without his help, he leered, of course not. He tailed her everywhere, would see her crumble. And as always, the dark-haired girl did not see him. As always, her hair, her lustrous black hair, fanned her face like a curtain, obscuring her pretty, innocent eyes. Oh, he would burn in hell for this, his mother told him. But oh, how much he wanted to reach her skin, breathe her in…

"..._I just love Kyo-kun the best."_

It was enough to fuel his mouth in discontent, into a snarl. He gripped his staff, stiff. He heard her all right; he heard her crystal clear. He heard her and her thoughts; it slipped into his mind like waves eating the sand on the beach in winter. Love? He seethed. How could she, saying that aloud, professing to the world _his_ name, her ardor? She should be on the floor, broken, dejected. His eyes darkened. She should not have done that; she did not move on easily, and yet she did. What a stupid girl, he thought maliciously, planning this all along, her wrong move.

But he had known this before, he had waited for this night to happen, hadn't he…Oh, indeed he had, thought of it with that dead man's lovely Sonata, and drank wine with her imaginary blood. She was the icing on the cake; the mosaics of her mortality planted in his patch of lilacs and lavenders. But she was still going to get it. She was going to pay dearly; no one has done this to him without playing his game.

_And it is such a shame, really,_ a sly voice spoke in his head as he looked at her—envisioning her with a gash on her throat—over his shoulder._ She honestly is a beautiful girl…but she must shatter, and if you can't have her, you would break her._

His fingertips bit the inside of his palm. Oh, yes. His smile was wide, his sun staff glinting in the moonlight. Break her. He melted out of the shadows—yes; he would break her—before letting out a predatory growl.

* * *

She almost dropped her mobile in the process as she cocked her head towards the noise. Was Naoko-chan here, now? She stood up, looking around the kitchen, wary. "Naoko-chan?" she called out, her voice scarcely a whisper, "Is that you?" 

There was no sound.

She tried again.

The ticking of the grandfather's clock was the only thing that answered her call. She frowned. Was it all in her imagination? "Ah," she murmured, sauntering to the soft-plush chair she was sitting on moments ago. She must be losing her mind, then. She sighed, her eyes wandering aimlessly, with no sense of direction. Then, in the corner of her eye, a spark of light flashed. But that wasn't what caught her attention… A young man with a pair of irresistible dark eyes materialized before her, from out of nowhere. She did a double take, her heart stilled, fear poisoning her veins. He stared. It was as if he was purposely doing that to her, testing her; and he was looking at her like _that_, with such disdain. Then he slithered, and her heart sunk, paralyzed on the spot. He was moving towards _her_. She could shift, could not think. She could not speak. But what was she to do? A thought shouted at her. Do something! Anything!

He came to a halt at once, few inches near her, appearing to reconsider something. Yet she had a sinking feeling in the stomach—a single tremble—that he would not stop there. He seemed to read her thoughts and his lips bent terribly, and it was sick, his hollow cheeks and _that_ face, so expressionless.

"Look at me," he said quietly, his hands approaching her face. But she still stood there, quite paralyzed, not looking at him. A shadow crossed his face then, but she was intent on looking at her bare toes, unmoving, stone like. He hooked a finger to her chin, strained her to look at him.

"Look at me, Tomoyo-san," he repeated, as quiet as the first one, her eyes now upon his. She did not dare to breathe, her pulse quickening. His eyes were mesmerizing, hypnotic, and they were so very real. And his pale lips…it drew her in as a flame would do to a moth…and it curled downwards…and…how did he know her name?

She did not have time to think. Alarmed and discomfited, she staggered backwards, towards the kitchen entrance, shooting terrified glances at the young man. Phantom? Her mouth was dry. Her mind was in scatter—but her instincts told her to run as fast as she could—and she was praying to Kami-sama, almost wishing that this was a nightmare, fake and breakable like cheap glass. But before she could even rush out of the kitchen completely, his long fingers grabbed both her wrists in such a supernatural speed it was all in a puddle of blur, and pinned her to the wall. She could merely whimper in horror. Her eyelids fluttered close instinctively at his proximity, his breath ghosting over her face as though he was going to inhale her. She froze at the contact. She tried to screech, to cry for help, but the back of his hand brushed her cheeks lightly, and it was solid and cold and insubstantial at the same time and she jumped back as—

She was the only one there.

She released air that she did not know she was holding, her chest throbbing with oxygen, her dark violet orbs robbed from their natural color. She rubbed her eyes, out of breath. Looking around the kitchen, she was confused. What had happened? She looked down at her toes. And when did she get off her feet?

Funny, she furrowed her brow, she did not remember. It was though she had been dreaming. But it was not often that she forget things—mundane things such as this. There had to be a rational explanation why she was standing, why her back was leaning on the wall. There must be. And as if in her own volition, there were fragments on the tips of her fingers, as though they were words on the edge of her tongue: There were shadows, yes, and eyes…her cheeks burning…a young man—

Her frame shook. Yes, yes…she remembered now, though it was still a bit indistinct. It was as though that splinter of memory broke all impossibilities: The young man…phantom…_eyes_…it all clicked! Her gaze swept up and down the kitchen, but it was as it had been—silent, empty. Trepidation crept on her skin as possibilities plagued her. The iridescent moonlight that was once illuminating her face had leeched off all the color as one question came into her mind: Was the mansion haunted?

Half of her said, it could be, it must be; the other half of her argued, saying that if it were—that ghosts did indeed embalm in the mansion, their eternal tomb—wouldn't it have occurred sooner? Wouldn't she _remember_? Suddenly perturbed, she shook her head. No. It was a phantasm. She swallowed down the bile that was bubbling up her throat. Yes, it was a fantasy, an illusion. Nodding to herself, her conviction stronger than a flimsy resolution, she brought her mobile back to her ear.

"Meiling-chan?" she said timidly, partially hoping that Meiling hang up on her, partially hoping that she did not.

"Mou!" fussed Meiling into her mobile, irritated; however, Tomoyo was relieved that she was still there, and her tense shoulders relaxed. "I thought you left me for good so you could go frolic with that date of yours…" Meiling went on, "but all things aside, what were you _really _doing, Tomo-chan?"

Tomoyo ran her hands through her hair, silently considering whether it was a good idea to tell Meiling what had happened to her moments ago, though she honestly was not sure herself. If she did tell Meiling, would Meiling think she was clinically insane? Or had she gone crazy, paranoid of what was or wasn't there? She shook her head again, as though this was going to erase the sensations—the fear—that were flinging themselves at her. _No_. Stop it. What she had seen—experienced—was a phantasm, period.

She chose the closest thing to the truth. "Oh, nothing," Tomoyo said dryly, her wry smile accompanying it, "I was simply wondering whether my obsession with leftovers is the best method to sustain my health."

**Note: Eriol's a disturbing man, isn't he. …I hope this version is slightly better than the last. English is my second language, so I would greatly appreciate your feedbacks. And, if you have seconds to spare, please tell me what worked or what didn't in this chapter. Thanks so much for your time! -distrust**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS. **

this chapter is still undergoing revision. I'm sorry for the inconvenience this may have caused you, but I have no idea how to rewrite the other half of this chapter. Eep. English is my second language, and suggestions for improvements or comments are always welcome.

* * *

_insignia_

Tomoyo was not speaking to Kyo. It was not because she was still furious with him; it was because he was going to England today, and she felt that an inexplicable silence was appropriate. She hated saying goodbyes, really, but she did not always loathe them. She supposed her hate budded when her Father was off overseas that one time, but somehow as he said _Now, Tomoyo, let me go, I'll return soon _and gave her his favorite pen—as if it was a pot of gold waiting at the other end of a rainbow—she knew that her Father would not come back. He never did. The space her Father left behind was void until Kyo came along. Thus, she was troubled that Kyo would do what her Father did to her, and she could not bear it if he did. Perhaps it was a silly defensive pessimism, but she could not live without it, without him. So, when Kyo picked her up that morning and said hello, she said hi back, went straight to his car and got in as Kyo followed her, confused.

Kyo's chauffeur drove them to the airport and poor Kyo was still confused, as he could not think of anything else to say; she was so quiet, quiet. When he inquired her if there something was bothering her, Tomoyo said a short answer and went back staring at the window. He thought that goodbyes were succinct and dulcet, but apparently, her way was different; while he brooded, Tomoyo took in the scenes as they passed by stoplights and freeways, the horizon ahead them wide and scattering like grass clippings. He thought that the ride to the airport was taking excruciatingly long but about twenty minutes later, the chauffeur parked the car in a crammed space, hopped out of his seat and was going to unlock the door for Kyo and Tomoyo. However, the chauffeur did not even get an attempt to do what he was allegedly going to do as Kyo immediately got out of the backseat before Tomoyo did.

He gave the chauffeur a tip and took Tomoyo's hand; the airport was a walking distance, and they mingled naturally with the crowd as if they were silvery sardines, the sky overhead dazzling bruised blue, as if it was sketching their dreams. He and Tomoyo were a blur of purple and brown as they headed down to the observation deck, their shoes sucking up on the marble tiles and then the plain stony concrete of the airport. They swerved to their right and went to the direction where they heard a plane landed, growling and reverberating like a starving lion.

Kyo sighed as they saw the plane, Japan Airlines, the one that was off to London, England; it was his father's plane; they _owned_ the airport. But one look at the dark-haired girl beside him and he thought he would give it away so he could be with her, and so he said, "You know, Tomoyo-chan," he told her subtly, "It's not as though I'm going to march to my Death in London. I have yet to marry you and everything." What he really held back from saying was _you are being unfair. Please talk to me._

Tomoyo, perceptive as she was, knew what he did not say. She inclined her head, her mouth crinkling, sheepish. She was being selfish, wasn't she? "I know that," she said, and wickedly she went, "but Li-kun doesn't. Could you kindheartedly not tell him that you won't perish anytime soon—to ease his mind, that is?"

Kyo tried not to think of ramming a stake in Li's possibly hairy chest as he grinned roguishly at her. He placed a hand over his heart gingerly, and said, "No, I certainly won't comfort Li. Li and I are over, remember?"

Tomoyo fluttered her lashes. "Is that so?" she said suggestively, nudging him in the ribs, "Well, thank Kami-sama for that. I thought that you were two-timing me with him."

Kyo rubbed his arm as she said this; he had the look of revulsion about him. "That's just disgusting, love," he told her with a scrunched face, "Li and I would never work. Besides," he went on, pecking her on the cheek, "I already have you."

Tomoyo's laughter rang round the observation deck, and heads turned at that chiming sound, a look of awe on their faces as they saw a stunning dark-haired girl giving an almost teasing smile at her equally handsome companion. Tomoyo tried to disregard the whistles and whispers, flustered, as one old woman in a flowery-printed silk skirt and black dress shirt trudged by, saying, _my, what a beautiful girl._

Kyo was complacent. "Huh," he said, "I'm a lucky guy, aren't I?" He had been flattering Tomoyo with waxed poetry about her features before they had began dating, but she did not entirely believe them.

Tomoyo was self-conscious as she detected a flicker of I-told-you-so in Kyo's voice. He continued, confident, "I think I deserve something for that."

Tomoyo shot him a mock-dirty look. "Really," she said. Her eyes were purple and wispy as she went on, "Well, I do have something for you." She paused, and rummaged her bag with one hand, while the other held him for balance. She pulled out a small item from her bag. "Here you go," she said at last, "I hope you would like it," she added timidly as she held it out to him. It was a simple box, about the size of his palm, swathe with a pastel-colored paper and two perfect ribbons on the front and the rear of the package; there was a handmade card attached to it.

"Thanks, love," said Kyo, accepting the gift with gratitude. He prodded it with a finger, subconsciously examining it as to what was in it; according to its size and weight, it was probably a diskette—an online scrapbook. He untied the two ribbons and plucked out the card to read it aloud: "_Kyo-kun, may your parents insist feeding you with the required vegetables, fruits and sporadically sugared violets while you are in England…_" He glanced affectionately to her and told her, "Aw, I'm touched." He really was.

Tomoyo looked around nervously. "That's good to know," she said, her voice tinted with embarrassment. She still was not used to Kyo's eccentric behavior, but she loved every minute of it, his sweet quirks. "Open the present in London, okay?" she added when he was about to rip the pastel wrapper and was going to make an objection, but she cut in firmly, said, "It won't be a surprise any longer if you open it in front of me."

"That's just cruel, love," Kyo joked, putting it away in his knapsack. He draped an arm around her. "So, when will Sakura-chan and Li get here?" he asked her, though he frankly did not care if Li was there or not, as Li had made an uproar the other day, saying he rather 'go with Toya at the flee market than see that wretched Shinomori off.'

Everybody knew that Li and Sakura-chan's brother, Toya, did not get along well though most of them—except Sakura-chan, Tomoyo-chan and the involved party—did not know the origin of their festering antagonism. Kyo simply imagined that Li had too many fiends.

"I think they're already here," replied Tomoyo, "Sakura-chan said that they would check out a café in the fifth floor at Terminal 2, I believe."

"Yeah?" Kyo said. He thought back, then said quickly, "Oh yes, the café that Sakura-chan mentioned is probably Coco."

"Coco," echoed Tomoyo, nonplussed. She had been at the airport numerously, but she did not have an ample of time to browse through the floors; she did not think that she would miss anything.

He looked at her. "You haven't been there before?"

"No," Tomoyo said.

"You'd like that place," Kyo said, grinning at her. Seeing a bewildered air about her, he elaborated, "Coco sells awesome hot cocoas regardless that it's not winter. It is actually the only café in the entire airport, really, and is quite popular to the tourists and the natives." He whistled his bangs away from his face as he went on, "they have an enormous amount of space there, so Sakura-chan and Li probably got some seats…and since this is their first try, Coco would give them free hot cocoas."

"You're well-informed about that place," she said, suspecting that he had been there before. "Have you gone to Coco previously?"

"I have," confirmed Kyo, "my father owns this particular airport and what's in it, among his wholesale food business in England." He raised his shoulders unassumingly as he went on, "So, when the café opened, I went there. Once was with my mum and dad, and the other time was with my siblings and this time—" he kissed her as he said this, "with you."

Tomoyo twisted a brow. "Sorry to ruin the moment," she said it in a tone of contradiction, "but might I add that I can see why Sakura-chan and Li-kun would want to go to Coco—hot cocoas, and all."

_Well, _that _definitely ruined the moment_, he thought, cringing. "Li and his chocolates," Kyo said morosely. It was no secret that Li had a soft spot for those delectable treats; if Li hadn't encountered Sakura-chan in elementary, he would have possibly married a bonbon, or perhaps a French pastry chef, and that would be absolutely dreadful to him, and utterly hilarious to Kyo. Kyo turned to Tomoyo in her gray khakis and white top, gazing at her questionably and said, "Shall we meet Sakura-chan and Li at Coco, then?"

She weaved her hands around his neck. "We still have a moment left, you know," Tomoyo said waywardly, and before he could say anything, she suddenly grabbed his face and kissed him on the mouth.

* * *

Tomoyo was fourteen when she met Kyo that one fine summer day. She was at the beach that afternoon, a beach towel around her waist. Her feet were making an imprint on a muddy slice of sand, and she was sopping wet under the sun; her hand was motionless as it gripped a paintbrush in front of her blank canvas. All around her women were sun tanning or dozing, men and their six-packs strolling. Some were jogging, sweating as the white blazing sun pounded them, but most were having a grand time; people usually did when they go to the beach. 

Sakura and Syaoran had left for Hong Kong the day before with her family in tow, abandoning Tomoyo by herself. Of course, Sakura had encouraged her to come, but every year Tomoyo said no; every year Tomoyo had a reason why she could not go.

It hurt too much to see them together, but Tomoyo would lie through her teeth and she would say to Sakura, _I do not mind. Go with Li-kun. Have fun. _She was excellent at lying, anyway, and sometimes she was grateful that Sakura was oblivious, or appeared to be; Tomoyo could not handle the truth. She would pay attention to Sakura say, what she did with Syaoran, Syaoran, and Syaoran and was he the cutest boy Tomoyo-chan had ever seen?

Tomoyo would smile her smile to Sakura as she watched them go, Sakura becoming her ghost best friend. It was endurable during school as Tomoyo had eclectic leisure interests, grades, and clubs; her schedule was brimming to the top that she could possibly not see Sakura often. There were days she did not even see Sakura, who was busy with cheerleading, grades and Syaoran. It used to be Tomoyo, who was always with Sakura even though they had other things to do, but Syaoran had taken her place; Syaoran was the boy who took her best friend's heart, and he was the boy who had inadvertently hurt her a lot.

Tomoyo could not do anything about it, really, except during the summer, when it was all about forgetting Sakura and Syaoran, and the winter, spring, and autumn falling behind her—when Sakura's happiness did not matter.

Then for the first time, without Sakura by her side, her journey began with Kyo, her blank canvas, the emptiness after everything.

That one fine summer day, Tomoyo was spreading blue on the black blot across the canvas with the tips of her paintbrush as the waves slapped her ankles; the water was like a diamond as the sun was crashing down.

Then behind her, someone said, "That's nice."

The voice caused her to jolt, her paintbrush knocked down on the muddy bottom. She rotated, her eyes now fixed on the boy blankly; he had honey-blond hair and coffee eyes. He was only in his trunks. She blanched as he bent down, his palm and knees sandy as he got up, and gave her the paintbrush with a flourish as though it was a rose. How terribly romantic, she thought sardonically, as he winked at her.

"Thank you," she said, and faced her canvas, her hand poised. Then she painted her dreams and the sea, sketched it roughly from her thoughts. She had been looking at it with black and white and white and black and gray screening her eyes. Her Mother twice complimented her, said that her paintings were abstract and wonderful like her dance interpretations and those melodies she slain excellently. But she did not care anymore, not today anyway; colors freed her. Summer was her savior.

It was already sundown as she realized there were no kids running and shrieking to destroy sandcastles. There were just the waves rolling now, and suddenly a voice—not her own—spoke up.

"_That_ is wicked."

Tomoyo turned around right as the honey blond-haired boy scanned her work of art. She recognized that he was the same boy from last time. She wrinkled her nose. She thought he had gone away, and was amazed that he was still there. She ogled him for seconds, his comment striking her right then. Did he just insult her? She was not sure, but she wanted him to go away. However, her decorum won over her and she heard herself saying, "Thank you."

"You should use light colors more," he continued, and now he was looking at her, "to brighten the mood of your overall artwork. Thus far, it's good…but it makes one feel depressed."

Now she was annoyed. Who was this stranger to order her around? "I have intended to do that, sir," she informed him curtly, "but I appreciate you for telling me of your opinion." Her tone construed that she wished to be by herself; however, he did not leave, meaning he was either thickheaded or simply slow.

"I didn't mean to offend you," he said smoothly, "My mum is a painter, you see, so I sort of have knowledge concerning—" he gestured vaguely to her canvas, "—that."

"Yes, I'm sure," she said wryly. She did not have patience for this; if he was not going to go, then she would. She started to pick up her things, but suddenly he seized her arm and drew her close to him, stopping her altogether.

Tomoyo stood there, shocked.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I was just saying that you shouldn't blame hope for deceiving you, that's all." His arms sagged to his sides. "Anyway, it's lovely to meet you," and away he went.

Her mouth was still slacking as she went home that night, his words bundling her mind that she rather forget. He was an audacious one, that boy, and she never got his name. She thought she would not see him again, but the next afternoon, when she went back to the same beach—the same spot—to finish her painting, she missed a step and fell upon a mass of honey-blond hair and grinning coffee eyes. He was warmer than her skin. He looked up at her abashed, purple orbs as though they knew each other and they were friends, said, "Hey, I knew you'd be here."

And that was when he held her art works by the sea, without Sakura, and told her his name. Yet Sakura was still in the river of her fantasies, but she was self-seeking. She wanted him too, but she could not have two. First love was the hardest and it was her everything. She could not get over it, but she felt a change coming_. I've changed, I've changed. I've changed._ That summer the colors were shocking, and Kyo was not all her life. That year she refused him—_Give me time, Kyo, _she said to him—and he went away like that day after he held her. Like a butterfly, she trapped him in a jar only to slip out of it the next day.

Tomoyo was fifteen turning sixteen when she found him again.

* * *

Kyo and Tomoyo went to the café, Coco, afterwards; it took them a few minutes to get to the fifth floor, which was the top floor, and the planes were much nosier as they got there, the lights blinding them temporarily. Kyo saw Sakura first, and Tomoyo mimicked him and saw what he had: a girl wearing her brown hair in a ponytail, tied with a red cherry blossom scrunch. The girl was unquestionably Sakura, and sitting across him—a table set for six people—was Syaoran, who appeared to be sipping a complimentary hot cocoa. 

Sakura had seen them before Syaoran did, and she waved at her best friend and Kyo merrily, her hair whipping about and her emerald orbs sparking like gems.

"Tomoyo-chan, Kyo-kun, we got you seats!" Sakura said gaily when they were at hearing distance, indicating at the empty seats with a beamy smile.

Syaoran promptly choked on his hot chocolate, the burning sensation leaking in his throat, and said inconsequentially, "Great." His brow puckered. He really, _really_ did not want to be there, but for his Sakura and Daidouji, he thought gloomily, he would. Syaoran's jaw clenched as Sakura then forcefully thrust Kyo to slide in next to him. "Absolutely great," said Syaoran, surly. Then he snickered pleasantly. At least Shinomori was going to be away for two whole months. Perhaps he could then convince Daidouji that Shinomori was a pathetic excuse of a thing to be a human being…

"Good day, Li," said Kyo stiffly.

Syaoran glowered at him. "Bad day, Shinomori," he returned, his knuckles were pasty white because it was gripping the mug tightly.

Kyo simply ignored him, attempting to keep his promise to Tomoyo last night. However, it was hard to avoid Li's snarky comments, as Sakura had made him sit next to Li. He slightly wondered if Sakura and Tomoyo had done this on purpose: He was usually beside Tomoyo and therefore, he could sometimes evade any conversations with Li. Then he noticed Li was glowering at him with slit eyes. Kyo sighed, said nothing, and turned his attention to the girls instead.

"That's cool," Sakura was whispering to Tomoyo, "I ordered one for Kero-chan too….I don't think he had Italian before," she went on, "so this would be his first try, and I think he would really like it!"

"He certainly would." Tomoyo agreed, smiling.

Kyo blinked, perplexed. Sakura introduced him to her toy before, but he didn't know it could eat real food. "Kero-chan?" he said to Sakura, "Isn't that a stuffed animal toy?"

Sakura appeared as if she was going to be sick. "Um, yes,but…um, you see—"

"Of course it is, Shinomori," Syaoran cut in easily, "Sakura likes to refer to her stuffed animal toy as a living being."

However, Kyo still looked unconvinced; Tomoyo had not exactly told him of Sakura and Syaoran had magical powers as she thought he was not ready for it. Sakura and Syaoran concurred, though Sakura believed she should have told Kyo of it otherwise.

Syaoran snorted. "Believe me, Shinomori, there are more—"

To his chagrin, his line of remarks got cut off by a rather shrilly voice, and he was positively horrified as he found a long brown-haired girl bouncing towards them. Syaoran cowered as the girl huddled around him, pinching his cheeks.

"Oohh, Syaoran-kun, you're here too!" cooed the girl. At this, Kyo could not contain his uncontrollable glee; on the other hand, Tomoyo was startled. She peered at the girl more closely, dawning on her that the girl looked very familiar…

"Hi, Nakuru-chan!" said Sakura, not at all surprised. She stood up and strode towards Nakuru. "It's nice to see you."

Nakuru squealed. "Yes, it's nice to see you, too!" said Nakuru, "I'm sorry we're a bit late. We got hold up by those stupid securities and _then_, Eriol-sama here—" Tomoyo looked behind Nakuru, and sure enough, a tall, lanky dark-haired boy with wide-rimmed glasses appeared by Nakuru's side, "—did not help at all! But those securities were being all stupid. Anyway…"

Tomoyo was not listening. Eriol Hiiragizawa? In Japan? Tomoyo peeked at Syaoran; he did not seem to be speechless by Eriol and Nakuru's sudden appearance. _Sakura-chan had forgotten to tell me of this_, she thought, hurt that her best friend did not tell her. _It is probably why she and Li-kun went to __Coco__, to meet them_…. She then struggled to recall whether Hiiragizawa-kun wrote in one of their letters that he was coming to Japan….And, she thought in relief, he had not.

"Hello, Sakura-san," said Eriol quietly once Nakuru had finished talking, "It is indeed lovely to see you again."

"Eriol-kun!" exclaimed Sakura, immediately throwing her arms around him—Syaoran looked terribly livid by now—"I've missed you!"

"And I have missed you dearly," said Eriol, patting her on the back carefully, as Syaoran was watching him like a hawk.

"Mou, Sakura-chan," complained Nakuru, pouting, "don't I get a hug too?"

Sakura giggled, detangling herself from Eriol. "Okay, I—"

But Nakuru was already halfway to the corner where the pastries and sweets lie in neat stacks. "Nah," she said facetiously, gesticulating about, "You can do that later…Right now, though, I have to get something for Toya-kun. And candies for Suppi-chan," she added, before trotting out of view.

"Hoeee," Sakura said, complete with the swirls in her eyes.

"Forget Akizuki, Sakura," spoke Syaoran, who was eyeing Eriol distrustfully, "We have other…_things_ to watch out for." He emphasized his last words as he continually scowled at Eriol; he could never forget that Eriol did hurt his Sakura.

Eriol chuckled. "You have not changed at all, My Cute Little Descendant," said Eriol cheerfully, his blue eyes widening slightly as his gaze moved smoothly to Tomoyo. "Hello, Daidouji-san…forgive me, I haven't seen you there."

"Oh, er, that's all right," said Tomoyo weakly, still shocked at his presence. "I was not aware of you visiting Japan this soon, nor was I informed of when you would arrive," she said impishly.

Eriol smiled. "It is I who is at fault here," said Eriol, "I have forgotten to notify you of my forthcoming vacation in Japan in my monthly letters to you…though, I was sure that Sakura-san or Syaoran here would mention it to you once or twice…"

He broke off at Sakura's apology and then assuring Sakura that it was his fault, not hers (at which Syaoran muttered, "You got that right."), Eriol then concluded to Tomoyo, "And I am honestly sorry for that…" It was then he set his eyes on Kyo, his astonishment strong before he shook it off, "I believe we have not been introduced to each other yet," said Eriol politely. He stuck out his hand to Kyo, and with another smile, "Eriol Hiiragizawa."

Kyo took it, and shaking Eriol's hand, he said, grinning, "Kyo Shinomori."

Syaoran grumbled at them both, thinking that the two people he did not like were there before him. Eriol's cheerful smile grew cheerier even more, and at that, Syaoran was practically going to bludgeon him with one of his snide comments when Sakura had cried unexpectedly.

"What is it, Sakura?" asked Syaoran worriedly, ignoring the infuriating smirk on Kyo's face and the annoying twinkle in Eriol's eyes.

Sakura pressed her fingers to her mouth. "Where are my manners?" she said to no one, ashamed of herself. Then, "Come seat next to Syaoran-kun, Eriol-kun," she told Eriol, "I think three people would fit over there…"

The vein on Syaoran's forehead appeared to throb subsequently as Eriol obliged. There was a bit of silence, and then, Syaoran said to Eriol, irritated, "I still can't believe you're here—" Eriol sunk next to him. "—I think I'm going to go insane if Sakura keeps torturing me with your face."

"That's a dangerous path for you, My Cute Little Descendant," said Eriol mildly, extending his arm on the table to get a menu, "Thinking, that is."

Syaoran's ears were red. "Fuc—"

"Syaoran-kun!" screeched Sakura, appropriately scandalized, "There are other people here, you know," she said, indicating the irate complaints of others who were conversing in hushed voices. "So, please, don't say bad words."

"You know I have never cursed, Sakura," Syaoran said, insulted, and then muttered, "not in front of you, anyway."

"Syaoran-kun," said Sakura; she was hissing now.

Syaoran raised his hands as though he had lost in a game. "I won't, Sakura," Syaoran relented, "Really."

Amidst all of Syaoran's suffering, Kyo viewed the scene with keen interest. He deduced that Li and Hiiragizawa were close to one another. Furthermore, Li had managed to obtain yet again a certain person to vex him. Knowing Li, he likely brought it upon himself. Kyo threw an inquisitive look at Tomoyo. "Are Li and Hiiragizawa-san relatives?"

"Yes, they are," replied Tomoyo, leaving out the fact that Hiiragizawa-kun was also Sakura-chan's relative and he was the reincarnation of Clow Reed. She would tell him sometime about it, she decided confidently, but not now.

"Ah," said Kyo, liking Eriol already as he could be his ally; Eriol clearly seemed to take pleasure in vexing Li. "How do you know Hiiragizawa-san, though?" he asked, "You have brought up your past elementary friends once or twice, but I don't think you've told me anything about him."

"I know Hiiragizawa-kun poorly," shrugged Tomoyo, "All I know about him is that he moved to Tomodea in fifth grade. He was my classmate," Tomoyo filled him in, again omitting the important facts, "He went back to England, though; Sakura-chan kept writing him letters as he was her friend. She got Li-kun and me to that particular hobby as well, and so I mail him a letter once a month while Li-kun sends him an enormously short letter once a year. He and Li-kun are not precisely buddies, you see, but they really care about each other…."

"That's how Li cares, I suppose," muttered Kyo, brooding. With Hiiragizawa's skills, it was so much better to vex Li. It was, after all, his time to get back at Li….Refocusing his attention back to their companions, he witnessed Syaoran—and to his delight—failingly controlled his temper.

"Quit pretending you're going to order, Hiiragizawa!" snapped Syaoran, his scowl a-flourish. "You are probably here to torment this peaceful town again, aren't you?" he demanded, "Tell me!"

"Some of us do order food when one's hungry, Syaoran," said Eriol delicately, pushing the menu aside. "And no, I have no intentions on causing any kind of havoc this time. However, now that I have lost my appetite," he went on, his tone suggesting Syaoran was behaving like a four-year-old, "I have a question for you: When are you going to marry dear Sakura-san here?"

Sakura blushed furiously. "Eriol-kun, it's not—we're not going to—" she stammered, twiddling her thumbs, "I mean, we are but we are not—"

Syaoran slammed his fists on the table. "I…I—" he stuttered, his face as red as his ears. "Argh!" he finally bit out, "I hate you, Hiiragizawa!" and stomped out of the café, followed by the unimpressed spectators' mutterings as they glared daggers after him. Sakura apologized to them profusely, before proceeding to catch up with Syaoran, her features clearly expressing 'Pain' and 'Syaoran' as she left the café.

Eriol faced Tomoyo and Kyo amicably. "Would you like buttered toasts as well?" he asked them after a moment.

Tomoyo merely stared, thinking that he was quite insane. Granted, Syaoran had exploded rather suddenly, but Eriol was always fond of getting on his nerves…. Eriol was sharp, though. He would have noticed that Syaoran was not having a good day and that he had the shortest patience today…. She then considered if Eriol was perhaps like other men: oblivious.

Kyo, however, was triumphant. "Brilliant, Hiiragizawa, you're just brilliant!" he praised Eriol, shaking his head in awe. "I could have not done it any better! Though, since I have never enraged Li like that, you beat me up to it," he corrected thoughtfully.

"I knew him for too long and therefore, I knew how to push his buttons," said Eriol modestly. His eyes glittered mischievously. "Would you like to know exactly how to—?"

"You don't even have to ask!" said Kyo eagerly, unable to help himself. He leaned over to Eriol, and they commenced whispering each other of Li-kun's weaknesses, which amused Tomoyo.

She was secretly glad that Sakura-chan was not present now, as she would have spasms—almost as worse when she was scared of ghosts—had she seen Kyo-kun and Hiiragizawa-kun was conspiring against Li-kun…. _Actually_, Tomoyo thought, _perhaps Sakura-chan would be more horrified at the thought of Naoko-chan telling her tales about phantasms and ghosts_... She involuntarily shivered. The memory from last night did not wilt in her mind; in fact, she had retained bits and pieces of it, dripping like dewdrops as the day went by. The phantasm was becoming more real to her that she knew that it was not a dream, and that it was pointless to deny that she was not hallucinating that night. She deliberated if she needed assistance for this…._phantasm_….perhaps Sakura could help her, but no….she rather Sakura-chan not have a heart attack anytime soon. Nevertheless, she still needed someone who could perhaps ward that thing in the mansion away…but who would be apt for that particular job? Her brows drew up together as she came up with one word: priestess. Could a priestess fend off such a thing, though? If they could, where would she find one...Oh, wait a minute….she remembered that Mizuki-sensei was a priestess. Tomoyo's lips quirked happily….Yes, Mizuki-sensei was one wasn't she, and since Hiiragizawa-kun and Mizuki-sensei were very close friends, she would be in Japan as well….

Gathering up her courage, Tomoyo cleared her throat. "Excuse me for interrupting you and Kyo-kun, Hiiragizawa-kun but…if you don't mind me asking, do you know where Mizuki-sensei is?"

Eriol looked up and smiled that did not reach to his cold eyes. "She's in England," he replied simply, "It is regrettable that she could not come, but her work demands her full attention as of now…"

"Oh," said Tomoyo, discerning that she came across a wound. "I'm sorry," she said, but Eriol had his back to her once more, and was again advising Kyo what not to do if he was to irritate Syaoran successfully.

Tomoyo pondered, peeking at Kyo and Eriol every now and then. Did that mean that Hiiragizawa-kun and Mizuki-sensei broke up? However, they went back to England together, right….She did not know the details, but it was conclusive that they would be as one like Li-kun and Sakura-chan was and yet, here he was, with Akizuki and possibly Spinel-san….without Mizuki-sensei. Could it be that they had a fight so drastic that it compelled Hiiragizawa-kun to go to Japan? ….She promptly berated herself. She needed not to think of it….it was not her business; she and Hiiragizawa-kun were barely friends and therefore, she should leave him alone and not intrude into his privacy. Moreover, she had important matters regarding on what to do with the possible supernatural in the mansion…

A sudden reminder broke her thoughts, then; she had almost forgotten that Kyo's flight was today. "Kyo-kun," she said urgently, "your flight—"

"Oh, right, _oh_," said Kyo, taking in Tomoyo's words. "Yes, right then..." he said hastily, getting out of his seat as a loudspeaker had just announced that Japan Airlines—that was off to England—was leaving in forty minutes.

Tomoyo stood up as well, turning to look at Eriol. "Excuse us, Hiiragizawa-kun—"

"No, that's okay," said Kyo at once, swinging his knapsack in one shoulder, "You stay here."

Tomoyo jerked her head up at him, startled. "What—"

"I have to go straight to the security first, and they don't allow visitors—besides, Hiiragizawa here needs your scintillating company more than I do," Kyo explained hurriedly, and then to Eriol, "Excellent to meet you, mate!"

She was puzzled; they had planned that she would see him off. "But, Kyo-kun," said Tomoyo reasonably, "I—"

Kyo had interrupted her once more, and said, "It's quite all right, Tomoyo-chan; I'll give you a ring when I get there, okay?"

"Kyo-kun—"

"I'll see you later, love," said Kyo as he kissed her quickly, and flashing her and Eriol a grin, he said, "I hope to see you again, Hiiragizawa!"

Tomoyo did not even say goodbye to him properly as with those words, he was out the door. She stared after his diminishing form, and sighing inaudibly, she plopped on her seat in defeat. "How odd," she murmured. She was unnerved that Sakura-chan and Li-kun had not come back yet…and Kyo-kun had just left—she would have a word with him later on—and so she was sitting alone….with Hiiragizawa-kun. She perfunctorily inhaled her breath, and studied him for a moment, wondering if he was willing to let whatever he had on her pass.

Finally, after what she felt like years had elapsed, Eriol spoke. "Does Shinomori have a family in England?"

Tomoyo examined him cautiously before she replied. "Yes," she paused, careful, "His family has a wholesale food business there, and his father owns this airport."

"Ah," said Eriol, musing, "So that is why I recognize his last name….His father has plans to spread the business in America as well as in Europe, yes?" he asked her.

"I believe so," answered Tomoyo, silently thinking of how to apologize to him without getting him cross with her once again.

"His father is a clever man," he added thoughtfully.

"Shinomori-san is indeed clever." Tomoyo bit her lip reluctantly as he said no more. "Look, Hiiragizawa-kun, I'm sorry for what I had said earlier—"

"No," said Eriol quietly, and in a heartbeat, she thought he was crossed with her when he cracked a warm smile. "I acted callously towards you without giving you a good reason why, but I hope you could perhaps pardon my prior—"

"I was out of line," said Tomoyo at once, now in ease that she knew he was not mad at her, "I shouldn't have—" She stopped again when disruption in a form of Nakuru had come waltzing in, heaving as she dropped her purchases in a reckless manner on the ground.

"TOMOYO-CHAN!" cried Nakuru happily, promptly taking Tomoyo by the arms; Nakuru hugged her tightly, consequently lifting her from her seat.

"Hi, Akizuki-san," said Tomoyo faintly.

Nakuru gave her a stern look, "It's Nakuru-chan, Tomoyo-chan!" scolded Nakuru, "We're friends, you know, and so you should call me by my first name," She wagged a finger at Tomoyo. "My name is not so hard to pronounce: Nakuru-chan," she enunciated slowly, "See? It's not hard at all! Why don't you try—?"

Tomoyo was unable to reply; Nakuru was still squeezing her rather strongly.

"Perhaps if you kindly refrain from depriving her of oxygen, she would, Nakuru," said Eriol dryly, amused.

"Oh!" said Nakuru and as though she was appalled at her actions, she let go of her, "Sorry, Tomoyo-chan!"

"It's fine," said Tomoyo, but she was indeed grateful that Eriol had rescued her from Nakuru's clutches. "How are you and Spinel-san doing, Akizu—" and at Nakuru's pout, she rectified, "Nakuru-chan?"

Nakuru's face brightened. "I'm well, thank you!" she said in a rush, "And Suppi-chan is fine too but not anymore since he'd be too busy being mad at me—" she threw in a hearty guffaw "—as he is napping inside one of Eriol-sama's suitcases right now."

"Oh," said Tomoyo, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Eriol tilted an eyebrow. "What did you do, Nakuru?"

"I didn't do anything bad, Eriol-sama!" said Nakuru instantly; she looked remarkably innocent that Tomoyo thought she had sprouted a halo on the top of her head. "Honest!"

"Are you, really?" said Eriol, obviously not believing Nakuru's words.

Nakuru nodded vehemently. "Yes, really!" She huffed, her hands on her hips, "Don't you believe me, Eriol-sama?"

Eriol raised another eyebrow as though he knew something Nakuru didn't. He looked regretfully to Tomoyo. "I'm sorry to end this get-together so short," Eriol began, "but we have to go—"

"I don't mind, Hiiragizawa-kun," said Tomoyo at once, smiling understandingly, "Say hi to Spinel-san for me."

Eriol nimbly got off his feet. "Will do, Daidouji-san," he said; he took Nakuru's purchases effortlessly as he went on, "As for you, Nakuru…" his tone fatherly, "I'll address you of your punishment for stuffing Spinel-san in one of _your _suitcases once we get to the manor..."

Tomoyo smothered her giggles at their father and daughter relationship. They were charming, really, and Tomoyo noticed that Nakuru just glowed…she had undoubtedly gone through this copiously before, and was not at all afraid of Eriol's chastisements. Tomoyo was not sure if she wanted to know what really happened to poor Spinel-san (or what had Nakuru had done to him numerous of times previously), and she had a feeling that she did not want to know…Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, causing a prickling sensation all over her body. Tomoyo looked up right as Eriol and Nakuru left the café, and could've sworn that Nakuru had cast a look at her. For a moment, Tomoyo wondered what that was for, but dismissed it as she was mostly certain that it was just in her imagination.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: CLAMP owns CCS.

* * *

**

_entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem_

The first thing Tomoyo heard when she roused by someone banging her bedroom door shut was the birds cheeping outside. It was early July and it was unbearably hot, the heat waves already wrestling with everyone's temper; air conditioner was ineffectual to a point that she slept with a light blanket the night before. Nevertheless, she slept poorly, but the heat was not the reason why she did. Ever since the unpleasant incident with the phantasm, she had not gone downstairs at midnight or went anywhere else, fearing that the thing that nearly scared her to death would reappear once again. She hoped that she would have gotten over it soon, but much to her dismay her fear had escalated worst and caused her most of her nightmares when she dreamt.

It demoralized her that her nightmares were repetitive, usually involving blood and skin and headless zombies. It was a sort of nightmare where she scampered as severed heads trailed after her, and where the people she knew betrayed her. For instance, she had a dream about blood-sucking leeches and chopped limbs and ripped epidermis with tattoos on it, and they were all after her. She was with Sakura and they went to a hut, Sakura saying that the two old people living in the hut would take care of them. Instead, the old people got their knives out once Tomoyo was inside, and Sakura blocked her way out, a sharp blade in front of her, telling Tomoyo,_ Hello, little girl, come closer. You're our dinner. _Tomoyo would wake up then, before those knives slice pictures into her skin, but the images still tricking her mind, whispering to her that it was real.

As a result, she was exhausted during the day, taking naps in between as she could, and people—even Sakura—had noticed this. Today was not any different. She groaned softly, flipped over to her side and covered her face with her hair, attempting to block out any further sounds, but it didn't work as a new rustling noise came within her room. She flicked an eye open, her mouth still thick with sleep, and saw Naoko Yasanawa standing by her bedside, pouring her a glass of fruit juice.

"Good morning," said Naoko, handing her the glass before she went to Tomoyo's walk-in closet.

"Morning," returned Tomoyo blurrily, taking a sip of the juice before putting the glass on her bedside table. She glanced at the clock sideways, the alarm still set at 7:00 am—it hasn't rang yet. "It's 6:00 am," she stated, looking over Naoko, "Is today a special occasion?"

"Not really," said Naoko, taking something from the closet, a frilly lilac dress that did not fit her in first grade, and dumping it in a large laundry basket. "I thought that taking your clothes that you never wore and now are collecting dusts and donating them to, well, people would do me good."

"Right," Tomoyo said, drawing her blanket closer to her as Naoko went on her job. She recalled giving permission to do that for a charity forthcoming next week, but she did not remember telling Naoko to do it so early in the morning. Besides, she told Naoko that she would help her. "And what honor do I have to grace me with your presence this untimely?"

Naoko waved her off. "Oh, please," she said good-humoredly, "quit using that too polished talk when you're talking to me. That horrible decorum doesn't work on me, you know."

Tomoyo let out a smile. Naoko was irritated at the language that affluent people spoke, how they somehow fluffed the words like cotton candy; she believed that most people who were rich were snobby and mean, excluding, of course, Tomoyo and Sonomi. Naoko sauntered towards her. "Is it such a bad thing to visit my friend? I _am_ your friend, right?"

Tomoyo put a hand over her mouth, yawning. "No. And yes, of course you are. However, I don't think a friend would fancy dropping by this early _especially_ when the birds haven't chirped yet." She said the last part sardonically.

Naoko merely ruffled her hair and went, "For your information, your highness, the fat and cute birds chirped already. You just missed it," she threw a haughty look at Tomoyo, continued, "and anyway, you should be thankful that you have a type of friend—_ahem_, me—who does not blab to the Daidouji-sama that her daughter is going to elope with a hot boy with a hot body and all that. And don't forget," her tone reprimanding, "I'm loyal, I like chores, and—"

"You're going to spout of scandals concerning your love life," Tomoyo cut in knowingly.

Naoko was a heartbreaker; she was stunning, with a mass of wild orange curls, and haphazard freckles on her nose—though Tomoyo assumed that when she was a toddler, those freckles sprawled all over her face, but thankfully, it had reduced and were just around her nose now. She also had small pouting lips, but she was loud when she spoke her mind, and tiny ears and tiny feet. She looked foreign, exotic, half-Japanese and half-Irish; she migrated to Japan when she was seventeen, to attend a university and live permanently in Tokyo. Sonomi Daidouji accepted her as an intern, and gave her a part-time job at the mansion so she could learn some 'new and interesting things,' though later on, Naoko told Tomoyo that Sonomi was simply out to get her. Over the summer, when college was out, Naoko divided her time for her summer internship, her job and boys. She had flings with boys who always, always had a hair so dark and shiny Tomoyo could see her reflection on it. Naoko had acquainted her to her past and present boyfriends, and it gave an impression to Tomoyo that she was not necessarily good at committing herself to relationships.

"Whatever, Tomoyo-chan," said Naoko, going back to work but not before giving her a sly smile. "So, anyway, I had a date the other night..."

"What was he like?" Tomoyo sat up more keenly. She was constantly fascinated with Naoko and her dates, as she had something to say, stories ranging from the unimaginable to the very possible.

"He was fun, had spunk," said Naoko, "He was—no," she sighed dreamily, "_is_ such a cutie—so _cute_, I tell you, that he made my heart melt, butterflies buzzing in my stomach and all that. And he's a gentleman, not like every other jerk I dated."

"That's a first," said Tomoyo, wondering if she would have a second date with that boy again. As far as she had known Naoko, she had dated men who frequently cheated on her, hurt her, and all the while loved her. In the end, Naoko would dump all of them, her line always _I don't think this is going to work. You hurt me. Go away. Leave me alone. _Tomoyo thought many times whether she loved doing it, or if she was just a mixture of a masochist and a sadist, and so she was rather astounded that a boy had turned Naoko into a gooey blob; he was the first one. "How old is he?"

"Young," said Naoko simply. She studied another dress that Tomoyo had sewed sometime ago. It was the color of the petals of a cherry blossom; it seemed holy, covering all the wearer in the right places, not too tight, not too loose. The dress was a teardrop-like shape, narrow and then suddenly dipping widely. A strip of lace enveloped the edges, the color of baby's breath. "Do you want to keep this?" asked Naoko, motioning to it.

That dress was originally made for Sakura, but now, even if Tomoyo did give it to her, Sakura had grown several inches in the past few years, and it would be of no use. "No thanks," Tomoyo said, "just…give it to somebody who does want it, please."

"Okay," said Naoko, placing it into the basket, which was now full with Tomoyo's fresh old clothes, most of which Tomoyo had designed and made on her own. "So, don't you want to know how old he is?"

Tomoyo took a sip of juice again. "If you want to, then yes." Her face was neutral.

Naoko gazed at her intently and said, "You _so_ want to know." Tomoyo smiled. "Well, I think he's about a year or two younger than me, but I can't really tell 'cause he has such a cute, boyish face."

"Oh. That's nice," said Tomoyo in silence; she paused, her eyes big as if something was caught in them. Naoko turned nineteen the day after Christmas and if Naoko was right, the boy was either seventeen or sixteen. Tomoyo went on, "I didn't know that you were into that type." She hoped that she didn't sound too impolite.

Naoko burst out laughing. "Geez, I'm kidding! He's very legal…Kami-sama, I'm not a pedophile, you know," she added, chortling now, "_Honestly_. Sometimes you're too serious for your own good; you should like, I don't know, have a good time or something."

Tomoyo got up from her bed, twitching; she straightened her nightgown. "Maturity comes with a high price," she said wryly.

"Whatever," said Naoko, her voice a bit distant, as she was inside the closet, digging for unwanted clothes, "Anyway, moving _away_ from my uninteresting love life…do you have a date with Shinomori-kun today?"

Tomoyo took her time, walking up to her table, and picking up a brush, started running it through her hair, before finally replying. "No. I'm going to assist Sakura-chan shop for Li-kun's birthday present, and we'll have lunch afterwards…among other things—a girls' day out, to put it simply."

"Oh, that's right," came Naoko's sympathetic clucking of her tongue, "Shinomori-kun went to England already, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," said Tomoyo softly, releasing her hold of the brush. She missed him already. "He has no inclination to go and sort his family business whatsoever, but he and I are cool with that."

"Has he called you yet?" asked Naoko as she came out of the closet with a pile of garments of the finest fabrics—from silks to cottons—glimmering in an array of colors in her arms.

"Not yet." Tomoyo could barely see Naoko except for her forehead and her wild hair. She was surprised that in the sixteen years she had lived, she had never worn those things, if ever.

"Well," Naoko said, recalling that Tomoyo had a knit brow when she came home that particular day, "he will soon and he will explain himself why he was all weird to you the day. I mean, how weirdcould men get? Seriously…anyway, he'll miss you very much," She was very sure of that, and dramatic, flopping on the carpet after putting the clothes away, she cried, "Oh, Tomoyo-chan, I can't live without you, breathe without you, die without you! Please, my love, take me with you, take me away!"

It was, needless to say, a perfect depiction of Kyo.

"That's a nice lovely performance, Naoko," said Tomoyo, embarrassed and sarcastic, "Really."

Naoko took a quick from-the-waist bow, showering kisses to the imaginary rapt audience. "Thank you, thank you!" she said, ignoring Tomoyo. She took the laundry basket on the either side of the handles, "However, I'm afraid that my lovely performance shall be cut short because these nonliving things need me oh so very much."

Tomoyo's shoulders shook as she laughed. "Right."

Naoko rolled her eyes. "You're just jealous," she said good-naturedly. "And by the way, Daidouji-san said that a relative would come and see you two days from now, or something."

"Relative?" said Tomoyo, confused. Whoever it was certainly was not her Father, and if it were, then her Mother would have told her in person, not through others. "Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"Nah," said Naoko inaudibly on her way out, "My guess is that he or she is probably an old person," she quipped and closed the door, leaving Tomoyo and her thoughts alone.

Tomoyo waved her tresses out of the way; the relative was obviously not Sakura-chan then, as she was the only one she knew outside her family. Her aunts and uncles and the few cousins she had went to America. Only her grandparents inhabited in Japan still, but they were—from both her Mother and Father's side—deceased, except for one: her grandfather from her Father's side. "It couldn't be him, though," she murmured to herself. But if she was right, she couldn't complain; she heard that her grandfather was dying from her grandmother's buried pain.

* * *

Five years ago, when everything was good but not quite great yet, her grandmother had passed away. It happened in the summer when Tomoyo frequently visited her; they were at the porch and it was early and bright in the morning. She was sitting on a swing, her grandmother behind her, pushing her back, as she prattled on and on about her Mother and her Father and Sakura-chan, her grandmother listening attentively like everything she said was important, as though she was taking notes to finish writing a term paper. It was hot and sunlight was spilling onto the porch. Tomoyo twirled to see her grandmother, to smile and tell her that they should go back inside so they could take some respite. Suddenly her smile fell. Her grandmother was on the ground, her hair hanging down her face, her arms and legs like gnarly vines; it did not look like she fainted, it looked like she died instead. Tomoyo kneeled down, touched her grandmother, time frozen forever. 

Yet time began again and the ambulance claimed her grandmother and Tomoyo realized that they were at the hospital. She saw a nurse take a needle out of her grandmother's thin sheet of skin through a screen on the door as a doctor in a white coat came out of the room labeled Emergencies Only. The doctor strutted towards her and said in a voice that got her thinking, Grandmother would make fun of him and his genes that traced back to his ancestors because he spoke like a curse. She looked at the doctor's moving mouth and only then he said something about Grave News and I am Very Sorry To Tell You This and Brain Aneurysm and Little Girl, Where's Your Family?

She just threw her head back and laughed. Her grandfather was out of town, her father was out of country, and her mother was at a stupid meeting. It was hysterical. "Dead?" she finally said, "Who's dead?" That got the doctor concerned and he clamped a hand on her shoulder as though that would make everything better. Really hysterical. She shifted under his grip and ran out the waiting room, passed the impatient patients and she was out of that sick building, tearing down the streets as the sky gradually went dark; her home was still ten miles away. Inevitably, she loitered at the Penguin Park, kicking the dirt in the sandbox as summer air hit her lungs. She felt like she could do anything.

But she could only think of her grandmother when she would comb her hair with her fingers one hundred times while she rambled on and on about her Mother and her Father. She could only think of the good times and her guilt that she had not told her grandmother that she was very pretty, the sort of person one would like to meet, so understanding. She could only think of her grandmother and her frosty, peppery hair, and she was wise and funny, telling jokes all the time, and her flowery scent—the kind that Tomoyo liked: lavenders, chrysanthemums, and other things she could not name—and it did not smell musty and yellow, like old people did nowadays; it was nice.

Her grandmother was dead dead dead. Coreopsis was gone as well.

She resented her grandfather and her father and her mother for not being there. She resented herself. She had her grandmother's eyes and hair and skin. She had her grandmother and Coreopsis, but they were lost now, just two dead people in one stinky, dead body. Why did her grandmother and Coreopsis have to go? She had questions about her grandmother, when she was still Coreopsis, not just grandfather's stupid trophy wife.

Only later did she discover, the same night her grandmother died, when she took off again and went to her grandmother's house and darted to her grandmother's room and read her diaries that she kept in a loose floorboard, that her grandmother disguised herself with many names like 'Mother,' or 'Grandmother,' or 'Daidouji-sama' when she married grandfather. She had a surge of loathing reserved for her him, then. It was his fault. Grandfather did not like the name Coreopsis, did not understand it, and so that was why he made her grandmother change it. He called her grandmother _Tickseed_, which was another name for the flower coreopsis, but when it rolled off his tongue, it was vulgar, harsh. But grandmother loved him nevertheless, and he was heartless and cruel that he treated her grandmother that way.

But to her, grandmother and Coreopsis were still one person, and her grandmother was not just a woman her grandfather flaunted at social gatherings. Now all she hated was him, not her father, or her mother, or herself, just him alone. Then, as if her grandmother was still listening, she felt her grandmother's memory as if it was her own.

Tomoyo was seven, and it was New Year's Eve.

The two of them were waiting for that boom, that particular sound, the fireworks that would let them know that the New Year had arrived. They faced the windows, and her grandmother stooped right in her ear, said, "Tomoyo, look at those stars."

She looked, there was a boom, and there were fireworks. They exploded and ran free like the unicorns she read in fairytale books and they were just like the pieces of a comet, or a falling star, but there were none. "They're lovely, grandmother," she said, knew how to lie very well, magical.

The green, blue, and red were visible now, and they sputtered almost instantaneously. Only the square and dots of blues hit her grandmother's face, and she saw, right then, that her grandmother was very old, very wrinkly, but very alive, beautiful.

"Those stars up there are dancing with those clouds," said her grandmother. Her grandmother adored the constellations and the space, the unknown. But Tomoyo knew what she had been asking, pleading. _Say you love me say you love me, _her grandmother was asking her silently.She did not think her grandmother had ever asked them to offer their words, those three simple words but she, her father, her mother and her grandfather didn't. _Say you love me say you love me. _Tomoyo couldn't say it.

So she said nothing, breathed in midnight, her grandfather reminding her of her Mother then, who had left her there; the company needed her more, her mother explained. Caring was not enough, and loving slightly was not enough, Tomoyo craved for more and more than that. "But I know," said her grandmother, "I know."

Then she saw her grandfather was against the wall, was silent, like a midnight predator. And she wanted to say to him Isn't grandmother happy? She could be happy without you. We don't need you. And she wished that she could have told him that and it was funny how she wished to say so many things to him, to her Mother, and to her Father. It was funny how she wanted to say to her grandmother that there were no stars, just fireworks.

But she kept quiet, tucked it in her pockets; she kept Coreopsis and her past, how she was half-European, and was an outsider, when interracial relationships were not allowed. Love, love, love was the enigma of summer and was the thing Tomoyo liked best—it was all she could ever think about—spending time with Coreopsis that New Year and that summer and her grandmother's history, while they hid from him, the monsters, and the rest of the world. There was something about summer and midnights, about its beginnings, that people would change as seasons changed. Summer was when people were nicer, wiser.

She could not despise her grandfather, not anymore, even if she could, even if she wanted to. _Say you love me say you love me._ It was all her grandmother ever asked for. Then she felt her grandmother smile, and she was back being eleven and she was in her grandmother's room again. The bed was still unmade because Coreopsis always liked it that way when she was there while grandfather was out for days and she gave the house cleaners a three-day off. She was some kind of girl, that Coreopsis. Her grandmother's old pictures were incoherent as they lay there on desks, carpet and chairs, creating a film from the time her grandmother was Coreopsis and to the time her grandmother put Coreopsis out of sight.

Now Tomoyo was sixteen, yet she was none of those things, not like those people lounging around at the beach on a nice summer day, adored by the sun. She was neither nicer nor wiser; instead, she had grown a liar and a cheat, and then grew out of it.

* * *

"Okay, this one looks nice…" 

"Umm. No."

"What about this one?"

"Ah. No."

"All right, this?"

"Ahh—um, no," said Sakura, "This is pointless!" She threw her hands above her head, upset. She and Tomoyo had been looking for a present for Syaoran for the past three hours now; they had been dashing store after store at the mall, and she was getting a bit discouraged that no stuff, clothing, and just…_things_ seemed right for Syaoran. They were not his taste.

Tomoyo, patient as ever, was rather enjoying it. She had her camcorder on, the little red light flashing. It was looking at Sakura's frustrated yet adorable expression. "Come now," said Tomoyo soothingly as she put the little charm—the one Sakura had recently rejected—back on the shelf. "Where's the Sakura-chan I know? Be optimistic. I know you'll find a perfect gift for him."

Sakura crossed her arms over her chest. "That's easy to say," she moaned, "but so difficult to do." She made a face at the camcorder. "And please stop filming me, Tomoyo-chan; I'm such a mess right now."

Tomoyo smiled. "I haven't filmed you for too long, though. Plus, you're going to Hong Kong in just a few days." She turned the camcorder off and stuffed it in her bag. "And you're not a mess—adorably messy, yes, but you don't look horrible despite the circumstances…" Suddenly she spotted a lone, small sculpture on one of the shelves; it stood out. "Well," she said to Sakura whimsically, "how about that one?" she asked, pointing at it with a slender finger.

Sakura took it, inspecting it thoroughly. It was a handmade Chocolate King statue, carved entirely into shapes of chocolate and candies: one, big Hershey's kisses for its body, bits of chocolate bars for its legs and arms, a coin-sized peppermint for its crown, and miniature chocolate chips and jelly beans for its eyes, ears, nose and mouth. It was painted in all shades of brown, orange, red and white. About six inches tall it looked deliciously sinful and— "This is perfect!" said Sakura, staring at it with starry eyes. She glanced to Tomoyo. "But do you think that Syaoran-kun would like it?"

"He would like anything that you would give to him," replied Tomoyo dryly. It was, in fact, the truth. Even if Sakura had handed him Kyo for a day, Syaoran would like it, simply because it came from Sakura. Tomoyo was positive that he would likely scowl when Sakura was out of eyeshot and curse when she was out of earshot, but still…

Sakura looked at her pointedly.

"It's great," finished Tomoyo quickly, "He'll love it."

However, it was lunchtime when Sakura had finally bought the Chocolate King after what many, many creative discussions she had with Tomoyo. Against Tomoyo's protests, she had looked for a better, greater birthday gift at other stores, which drained Tomoyo's energy a bit (she pulled out her camcorder once more as she strode beside Sakura), but both did have fun. Aside from their friendly disputes and Tomoyo's remarks about how Sakura was simply_ kawaii_ fretting over Syaoran's gift (before settling on the sculpture that she recommended to Sakura, Tomoyo thought smugly), they had a talk about everything and anything. Like life, how it was meant to be, beautiful like Tomoyo's grandmother and those invisible stars, beautiful like love. Then they had opinions about their own good elementary friends, and Meiling, who, Sakura gathered from Tomoyo, went straight to Paris after she had spent two days riding the rides at Disneyworld in Florida. It was like the old times again, when they talked about everything and anything, when they did not have boyfriends, when they were still attached hip-to-hip. It was moreover like writing a fairy-tale, just like how Coreopsis predicted: they wrote and captured the skies not to save each other, but to forget the bad memories and to remember the good ones, always. It was almost imperceptible when they both learned how they really missed one another, just them eating at the food court, without the electric kisses of their respective significant others.

"We should do this more often," said Sakura decisively, spearing a tomato with her fork. "I mean, have a girls' day out once every two weeks, or so...you know, just the two of us or like, with Naoko-chan, Rika-chan…"

Tomoyo chewed her food thoughtfully. "That would be nice, and that's a great way to keep in touch with Naoko-chan as well," she said. Naoko Yanagisawa unfortunately transferred out of Tomodea High, and went to the other newly built school three blocks away from Tomoyo's house. The new school asked her to transfer as well, but she politely said no, saying that she was happy with her current school and would like to finish studying there.

"Yeah," said Sakura sadly, "I can't believe her parents are making her go there, you know. I mean, just because the school is new it suddenly became popular….but I admit, the school does look, um, neat."

"It is all right," said Tomoyo, taking another bite of her food, "I've seen the interior of the school before and thought it is rather dreary, despite the leafy greens sprouting beside the doorways and fancy fountains and palm trees outside….Looks can be deceiving that way, I suppose."

"Yes," Sakura agreed, "I know what you mean."

They had fallen quiet then, forks clanking and plastic cups on the edge of their mouths; it was not awkward, though. Tomoyo thought it was very calming like perusing a book, the heat of the fire crackling, and the rain pitter-pattering outside.

"Oh yeah, before I forget," said Sakura suddenly as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, apparently had finished eating, "Eriol-kun invited you over for dinner tomorrow night at his manor, too. Nakuru-chan is going to prepare food for us, he said."

Tomoyo looked up from her plate. "Okay," she said slowly, "I'll come, but isn't it a bad idea that Li-kun and Hiiragizawa-kun to be together so soon?"

"Why?" Sakura asked, genuinely surprised.

Tomoyo stalled by folding her unused napkin into a square, not sure what to say next. Then, "I just wondered that, well…since Li-kun had expressed his feelings for Hiiragizawa-kun…" she tailed away, hoping Sakura got her hint.

Sakura did. "Syaoran-kun would be good," she said.

When Sakura had caught up with Syaoran after his outburst at the airport, she had nearly sobbed, bothered that he did not treat Eriol with a welcoming attitude and told him that he let her down. It took Syaoran's will to not kneel down to her and kiss her feet—he despised seeing Sakura cry, especially on _his_ account—and took every ounce of his energy to not say anything spiteful about the dark-haired idiot. Syaoran then swore over his not quite dead body that he would be nice to Hiiragizawa, even if it would mean that he would have to sacrifice his manliness.

"And I told Eriol-kun to not tease Syaoran-kun, either," Sakura went on happily, "so I don't think there would be any problems from now on."

Tomoyo looked at her, itching to ask her about Hiiragizawa that day, but she and Li-kun mysteriously disappeared afterwards. Now was the time. "Why didn't you tell me that Hiiragizawa-kun and Aki—I mean, Nakuru-chan were coming to Japan?"

Sakura scratched her head, contrite. "Anou…I honestly thought I told you about it, but what with the forthcoming trip to Hong Kong, I just thought, or in this case I didn't—" She paused, dawning on her that she was making an excuse. She hung her head low. "I'm really and absolutely sorry, Tomoyo-chan!"

"It's okay," said Tomoyo gently, "I just wanted to know why, and now I do." She placed her empty plate, fork and plastic cup on her tray. "Anyhow," she said, changing the subject to make Sakura feel comfortable, "Would Kero-chan and Yue attend Hiiragizawa-kun's dinner tomorrow as well?"

Sakura nodded, her earrings were shiny as she moved, her hair bouncing up and down. Tomoyo wondered how Sakura changed somewhat, most particularly this summer, what with her recent pierced ears. "Kero-chan is definitely going," said Sakura, "but I'm not too sure about Yue. I think Yukito-kun and Toya are going somewhere else tomorrow…though, I'll see to it if Yue can come or not, so I could notify Eriol-kun ASAP."

Tomoyo got up from her chair, tray in hand, and walked past her as she went to the trashcan that was just behind Sakura; she threw her Styrofoam plate, plastic fork, and cup away. Sakura imitated her, doing likewise. "Yue hasn't seen Hiiragizawa-kun for a while, ne," she said over her shoulder as she and Sakura went out of the food court, and skirted around the edges of the mall. Streamers dangled from the ceiling as though they were crystal chandeliers, and melodious music streamed out of large speakers. It was still the same old mall just like the year before that, shopper-addicts around; the mall management was already putting things up for the Autumn Festival in August. Sunlight streamed through the skylight as black clouds gobbled up the blue horizon, foreboding an upcoming storm.

"Yes," said Sakura, anxious, her fingers around Syaoran's carefully wrapped Chocolate King. "Do you honestly think that this gift is great? Would Syaoran-kun really like it?"

"Even better, Sakura-chan: he would love it," said Tomoyo patiently. They were nearing the exit now, and then pushing past the door and leaving it open for Sakura, she dialed her bodyguard's number as they stood outside amidst the Saturday shoppers entering and exiting the mall. Tomoyo continued, "Just make a birthday card to add a personal touch, and you're set."

"Thanks!" said Sakura, beaming, right as a black limousine parked by the curb. The black and grey sky, which was stormy that afternoon, thundered and roared as fat drops of water splashed down. Tomoyo looked upwards, now lost in her thoughts. Rain poured down. They pelted down Tomoyo's back as Sakura hurried towards the car, shielding the Chocolate King from the water by tucking it under her arms, the driver unlocking the door for her. Tomoyo, who stopped and was still staring upwards, let Sakura slid into the backseat first, and thought of that summer, Coreopsis, her dear old grandmother, and the unreal stars up there soaking wet with those clouds.

Then she felt Sakura's hand clasped hers.

"Come on, Tomoyo-chan, you'll get sick like that," said Sakura, her hand warm as she tugged at Tomoyo's fingers.

Tomoyo in her thoroughly wet sundress looked at her, cold and dazed. It was as if she was meeting Sakura for the first time. The driver was mumbling something, then he was beside Tomoyo, and there was an umbrella over her head. From her stance, Sakura appeared to be different.

"Come on," said Sakura again, yanking her to get in inside when she didn't budge, "Get inside. You're dripping wet. We have to dry you off as soon as we get to my house."

The wind whooshed as if it had been waiting for Tomoyo this whole time, right there, her hair sticking to her forehead, her face beading with the calmness of raindrops. Then she smiled, letting Sakura take her. "Okay," Tomoyo said. "Let's go."

* * *

That night, Tomoyo had not left her room when she came home, crossing the threshold hastily and passing the butlers and the others who were still up, getting ready to bed. She went around the back of the mansion and took dizzy turns before climbing up to the spiraling stairs—which was, she counted, about two-hundred and ninety-nine steps in total—and then veered to her right and then to her left. She wheezed all the while as though she was not going to make it; she heard the last of the butlers set the security on (it was a miracle she could even get past them) and guards shutting doors and windows close as they positioned themselves outside the mansion. It was then she figured out that her Mother was obviously out of town; Sonomi always put exemplary security when she was out for days, or weeks. When Tomoyo finally stepped on the last of the steps of the stairs and almost stumbled across the life-sized statue, she strode towards her bedroom. The lights dimmed and moonlight shrouded the furniture, carpet-covered floor, the corridors and the hallways as she broke into her bedroom, out of breath. 

Now, Tomoyo paced across her bedroom, agitated as she read her digital clock flashed midnight. She could not do this forever, huddling in her room as though she was safe there. If the phantasm had decided to terrorize her right here, what would she do, then? She gulped at that thought, her hands sweating as she wrung them. Kami-sama, she hated this. She depended on her room for protection, but deep down she knew that she had to act fast, to meet the phantasm head-on, and inform it to leave her in peace—that was to say, if it understood her at all.

But she couldn't let it rule over her life; she won't allow it…And she took in a mouthful of air, now strong-minded, slipped out of her room, and immediately groped for something in the dark when she heard her door clicked. She was unafraid.

Or perhaps a little afraid, she amended, as she felt her lungs contract and her mouth dry as a bone. She had not shaken like this in her entire life, not this easily. Her guard was up, her eyes vigilant and awake. As she walked quickly, she noticed that the echoes were almost cacophonous when everybody was resting, and she felt as if anyone or anything could touch her, or hurt her. _I still can't believe I'm doing this_, she thought incredulously, _I can't believe I'm scared of my own home._ She was nearing the life-sized statue once again when she saw the staircase; she went down, promptly dreaming up a dream.

Tomoyo reached the bottom of the stairs before she could even have a second thought to retreat. There was more of that horrible stillness, and this time around, however, she did not appreciate the splitting silence that was once music to her ears. Her feet put on pressure as she perspired, breathing tensely as she made out the shadow of kitchen door. She nearly screamed just at the sight of it. She knew she had to do this, though, if she wanted to get out of her room again without worrying over phantasms; and so, she tried not to run away as she counted _One _and twisted the knob to see what was lying behind the door. _Two_ She forced her eyes to stay alert as she flung the door open. _Three _Her heart leapt out of her throat as she stepped inside the kitchen, choking on her spit when she saw a shadow drifted across her. She stiffened and bit her tongue until she tasted blood just to prevent herself from screaming, urged herself to move forward to its huddled form.

The shadow was still.

She approached it quietly, apprehensively waiting for its attack. Suddenly she came into a halt out of her volition. She stared. She blinked several times as though to shake away an illusion, and looked at the shadow again. There was no change. The shadow still had shimmering wild orange curls and tiny feet. Tomoyo recognized something_: orange hair…tiny feet…_It was no phantasm, phantom, or ghost. It was Naoko. Tomoyo breathed easier She was infinitely relieved.

"Oh, hey you," said Naoko without spinning around when she felt eyes on her. She glanced to the grandfather's clock, and saw Tomoyo standing out of the corner of her eyes, her face shocked. Naoko added, "You're twenty minutes late."

Tomoyo gaped; Naoko was holding a bowl of chips and two bottles of chocolate syrup. Finally, Tomoyo pulled out a chair and sat on it, her head in her hands. "I know," she murmured, tired, "But I did something else before going here…besides, you said I shouldn't be too serious so I granted myself by taking a bit of your insanity."

Naoko frowned. "Something's wrong," she observed, walking towards Tomoyo and depositing her ammo of junk food on the counter. The dark-haired girl was naturally pale, but she was positive that her friend was unusually paler, almost as if she was sick. This was not ringing good news to Naoko. "Tell me what's wrong."

Tomoyo said something, but it was impossible to hear; she was very, very exhausted all of the sudden, and she just wanted to rest right there. She had the abrupt urge to laugh. There was no phantasm, phantom, or ghost; she overworked herself for nothing. Nothing at all, she sighed. She was simply imagining it. _Right then_, she thought fuzzily, _Relax._ _Let down my guard, don't waste my time, there are no such things... _It was as if those words were not her own, but they were comforting, passing through her like honey as it went on, _Relax. Go to sleep. _Her eyelids were suddenly heavy. _Relax…_It was the final word that pierced through her mind before she blacked out, tumbling into a dreamless state of sleep.

"Your highness," Naoko poked her worriedly. She placed a hand over her friend's forehead, checking to see if she had a fever, but she wasn't warm. What could be possibly wrong with her? She sat next to Tomoyo, her hand still on her forehead. "You still awake?"

Tomoyo didn't respond; she inspired evenly, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Then she emitted a soft sound.

Naoko's worry was shortly forgotten as she looked at Tomoyo disbelievingly. It was a snore. Naoko almost fell out of her chair, thinking that Tomoyo just_ snored, _trying hard not to laugh as she had a paroxysm of ticcing. She gazed at her friend's sleeping form and shook her head in disappointment. "Man," Naoko said pitifully, "I wish I had a camcorder to capture this moment, or something."

**Note: entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem means no more things should be presumed to exist than are absolutely necessary. Er, there is not much of Eriol in this chapter, but he's there (stalking Tomoyo, possibly). Also, Naoko Yanagisawa and Naoko Yasanawa are two completely different people. I couldn't think of any name for the latter so…er, yeah (sorry, i'm rambling...quite sleepy, erm). I hope this chapter isn't too confusing (or lacking details, and stuff); if it is, please tell me so I could fix it. English is my second language, so if you have any comments or suggestions, I would appreciate it greatly! **

**Many, many (and many) thanks to these wonderful people: Lysia Croft, cristal-shian, MoMo-ChAn1 **Kyo has the present still**, Cherry Blossom, sweet-sunflower **thanks again for your suggestions!**, asga, blue-sapphire and cukie. Thanks so much for reviewing this story!**


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